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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/7291-8.txt b/7291-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..facb9da --- /dev/null +++ b/7291-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5494 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Paths, by John Ruskin + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Two Paths + +Author: John Ruskin + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7291] +[This file was first posted on April 7, 2003] + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE TWO PATHS *** + + + + +Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team + + + +THE TWO PATHS + +By John Ruskin, M.A. + + + + +CONTENTS. + + +THE TWO PATHS. + + +LECTURE I. +THE DETERIORATIVE POWER OF CONVENTIONAL ART OVER NATIONS + +LECTURE II. +THE UNITY OF ART + +LECTURE III. +MODERN MANUFACTURE AND DESIGN + +LECTURE IV. +THE INFLUENCE OF IMAGINATION IN ARCHITECTURE + +LECTURE V. +THE WORK OF IRON, IN NATURE, ART, AND POLICY + +APPENDICES + + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + +THE TWO PATHS. + +THE IDEAL OF AN ANGEL +THE SERPENT BEGUILING EVE +CONTRAST +SYMMETRY +ORNAMENT +CLASSICAL ARCHITECTURE +CENTREPIECE OF BALCONY +GENERAL EFFECT OF MASSES +PROFILE +TEETH OF THE BORDER +BORDER AT THE SIDE OF BALCONY +OUTLINE OF RETRACTED LEAVES + + + + +PREFACE. + + +The following addresses, though spoken at different times, are +intentionally connected in subject; their aim being to set one or two +main principles of art in simple light before the general student, and +to indicate their practical bearing on modern design. The law which it +has been my effort chiefly to illustrate is the dependence of all noble +design, in any kind, on the sculpture or painting of Organic Form. + +This is the vital law; lying at the root of all that I have ever tried +to teach respecting architecture or any other art. It is also the law +most generally disallowed. + +I believe this must be so in every subject. We are all of us willing +enough to accept dead truths or blunt ones; which can be fitted +harmlessly into spare niches, or shrouded and coffined at once out of +the way, we holding complacently the cemetery keys, and supposing we +have learned something. But a sapling truth, with earth at its root and +blossom on its branches; or a trenchant truth, that can cut its way +through bars and sods; most men, it seems to me, dislike the sight or +entertainment of, if by any means such guest or vision may be avoided. +And, indeed, this is no wonder; for one such truth, thoroughly +accepted, connects itself strangely with others, and there is no saying +what it may lead us to. + +And thus the gist of what I have tried to teach about architecture has +been throughout denied by my architect readers, even when they thought +what I said suggestive in other particulars. "Anything but that. Study +Italian Gothic?--perhaps it would be as well: build with pointed +arches?--there is no objection: use solid stone and well-burnt brick?-- +by all means: but--learn to carve or paint organic form ourselves! How +can such a thing be asked? We are above all that. The carvers and painters +are our servants--quite subordinate people. They ought to be glad if we +leave room for them." + +Well: on that it all turns. For those who will not learn to carve or +paint, and think themselves greater men because they cannot, it is +wholly wasted time to read any words of mine; in the truest and +sternest sense they can read no words of mine; for the most familiar I +can use--"form," "proportion," "beauty," "curvature," "colour"--are +used in a sense which by no effort I can communicate to such readers; +and in no building that I praise, is the thing that I praise it for, +visible to them. + +And it is the more necessary for me to state this fully; because so- +called Gothic or Romanesque buildings are now rising every day around +us, which might be supposed by the public more or less to embody the +principles of those styles, but which embody not one of them, nor any +shadow or fragment of them; but merely serve to caricature the noble +buildings of past ages, and to bring their form into dishonour by +leaving out their soul. + +The following addresses are therefore arranged, as I have just stated, +to put this great law, and one or two collateral ones, in less +mistakeable light, securing even in this irregular form at least +clearness of assertion. For the rest, the question at issue is not one +to be decided by argument, but by experiment, which if the reader is +disinclined to make, all demonstration must be useless to him. + +The lectures are for the most part printed as they were read, mending +only obscure sentences here and there. The parts which were trusted to +extempore speaking are supplied, as well as I can remember (only with +an addition here and there of things I forgot to say), in the words, or +at least the kind of words, used at the time; and they contain, at all +events, the substance of what I said more accurately than hurried +journal reports. I must beg my readers not in general to trust to such, +for even in fast speaking I try to use words carefully; and any +alteration of expression will sometimes involve a great alteration in +meaning. A little while ago I had to speak of an architectural design, +and called it "elegant," meaning, founded on good and well "elected" +models; the printed report gave "excellent" design (that is to say, +design _excellingly_ good), which I did not mean, and should, even +in the most hurried speaking, never have said. + +The illustrations of the lecture on iron were sketches made too roughly +to be engraved, and yet of too elaborate subjects to allow of my +drawing them completely. Those now substituted will, however, answer +the purpose nearly as well, and are more directly connected with the +subjects of the preceding lectures; so that I hope throughout the +volume the student will perceive an insistance upon one main truth, nor +lose in any minor direction of inquiry the sense of the responsibility +which the acceptance of that truth fastens upon him; responsibility for +choice, decisive and conclusive, between two modes of study, which +involve ultimately the development, or deadening, of every power he +possesses. I have tried to hold that choice clearly out to him, and to +unveil for him to its farthest the issue of his turning to the right +hand or the left. Guides he may find many, and aids many; but all these +will be in vain unless he has first recognised the hour and the point +of life when the way divides itself, one way leading to the Olive +mountains--one to the vale of the Salt Sea. There are few cross roads, +that I know of, from one to the other. Let him pause at the parting of +THE TWO PATHS. + + + + +THE TWO PATHS + + +_BEING_ + +LECTURES ON ART, AND ITS APPLICATION TO DECORATION AND +MANUFACTURE DELIVERED IN 1858-9. + + + + +LECTURE I. + +THE DETERIORATIVE POWER OF CONVENTIONAL ART OVER +NATIONS. + + +_An Inaugural Lecture, Delivered at the Kensington Museum, +January, 1858._ + +[Footnote: A few introductory words, in which, at the opening of this +lecture, I thanked the Chairman (Mr. Cockerell), for his support on the +occasion, and asked his pardon for any hasty expressions in my +writings, which might have seemed discourteous towards him, or other +architects whose general opinions were opposed to mine, may be found by +those who care for preambles, not much misreported, in the _Building +Chronicle;_ with such comments as the genius of that journal was +likely to suggest to it.] + + +As I passed, last summer, for the first time, through the north of +Scotland, it seemed to me that there was a peculiar painfulness in its +scenery, caused by the non-manifestation of the powers of human art. I +had never travelled in, nor even heard or conceived of such a country +before; nor, though I had passed much of my life amidst mountain +scenery in the south, was I before aware how much of its charm depended +on the little gracefulnesses and tendernesses of human work, which are +mingled with the beauty of the Alps, or spared by their desolation. It +is true that the art which carves and colours the front of a Swiss +cottage is not of any very exalted kind; yet it testifies to the +completeness and the delicacy of the faculties of the mountaineer; it +is true that the remnants of tower and battlement, which afford footing +to the wild vine on the Alpine promontory, form but a small part of the +great serration of its rocks; and yet it is just that fragment of their +broken outline which gives them their pathetic power, and historical +majesty. And this element among the wilds of our own country I found +wholly wanting. The Highland cottage is literally a heap of gray +stones, choked up, rather than roofed over, with black peat and +withered heather; the only approach to an effort at decoration consists +in the placing of the clods of protective peat obliquely on its roof, +so as to give a diagonal arrangement of lines, looking somewhat as if +the surface had been scored over by a gigantic claymore. + +And, at least among the northern hills of Scotland, elements of more +ancient architectural interest are equally absent. The solitary peel- +house is hardly discernible by the windings of the stream; the roofless +aisle of the priory is lost among the enclosures of the village; and +the capital city of the Highlands, Inverness, placed where it might +ennoble one of the sweetest landscapes, and by the shore of one of the +loveliest estuaries in the world;--placed between the crests of the +Grampians and the flowing of the Moray Firth, as if it were a jewel +clasping the folds of the mountains to the blue zone of the sea,--is +only distinguishable from a distance by one architectural feature, and +exalts all the surrounding landscape by no other associations than +those which can be connected with its modern castellated gaol. + +While these conditions of Scottish scenery affected me very painfully, +it being the first time in my life that I had been in any country +possessing no valuable monuments or examples of art, they also forced +me into the consideration of one or two difficult questions respecting +the effect of art on the human mind; and they forced these questions +upon me eminently for this reason, that while I was wandering +disconsolately among the moors of the Grampians, where there was no art +to be found, news of peculiar interest was every day arriving from a +country where there was a great deal of art, and art of a delicate +kind, to be found. Among the models set before you in this institution, +and in the others established throughout the kingdom for the teaching +of design, there are, I suppose, none in their kind more admirable than +the decorated works of India. They are, indeed, in all materials +capable of colour, wool, marble, or metal, almost inimitable in their +delicate application of divided hue, and fine arrangement of fantastic +line. Nor is this power of theirs exerted by the people rarely, or +without enjoyment; the love of subtle design seems universal in the +race, and is developed in every implement that they shape, and every +building that they raise; it attaches itself with the same intensity, +and with the same success, to the service of superstition, of pleasure +or of cruelty; and enriches alike, with one profusion on enchanted +iridescence, the dome of the pagoda, the fringe of the girdle and the +edge of the sword. + +So then you have, in these two great populations, Indian and Highland-- +in the races of the jungle and of the moor--two national capacities +distinctly and accurately opposed. On the one side you have a race +rejoicing in art, and eminently and universally endowed with the gift +of it; on the other you have a people careless of art, and apparently +incapable of it, their utmost effort hitherto reaching no farther than +to the variation of the positions of the bars of colour in square +chequers. And we are thus urged naturally to enquire what is the effect +on the moral character, in each nation, of this vast difference in +their pursuits and apparent capacities? and whether those rude chequers +of the tartan, or the exquisitely fancied involutions of the Cashmere, +fold habitually over the noblest hearts? We have had our answer. Since +the race of man began its course of sin on this earth, nothing has ever +been done by it so significative of all bestial, and lower than bestial +degradation, as the acts the Indian race in the year that has just +passed by. Cruelty as fierce may indeed have been wreaked, and +brutality as abominable been practised before, but never under like +circumstances; rage of prolonged war, and resentment of prolonged +oppression, have made men as cruel before now; and gradual decline into +barbarism, where no examples of decency or civilization existed around +them, has sunk, before now, isolated populations to the lowest level of +possible humanity. But cruelty stretched to its fiercest against the +gentle and unoffending, and corruption festered to its loathsomest in +the midst of the witnessing presence of a disciplined civilization,-- +these we could not have known to be within the practicable compass of +human guilt, but for the acts of the Indian mutineer. And, as thus, on +the one hand, you have an extreme energy of baseness displayed by these +lovers of art; on the other,--as if to put the question into the +narrowest compass--you have had an extreme energy of virtue displayed +by the despisers of art. Among all the soldiers to whom you owe your +victories in the Crimea, and your avenging in the Indies, to none are +you bound by closer bonds of gratitude than to the men who have been +born and bred among those desolate Highland moors. And thus you have +the differences in capacity and circumstance between the two nations, +and the differences in result on the moral habits of two nations, put +into the most significant--the most palpable--the most brief +opposition. Out of the peat cottage come faith, courage, self- +sacrifice, purity, and piety, and whatever else is fruitful in the work +of Heaven; out of the ivory palace come treachery, cruelty, cowardice, +idolatry, bestiality,--whatever else is fruitful in the work of Hell. + +But the difficulty does not close here. From one instance, of however +great apparent force, it would be wholly unfair to gather any general +conclusion--wholly illogical to assert that because we had once found +love of art connected with moral baseness, the love of art must be the +general root of moral baseness; and equally unfair to assert that, +because we had once found neglect of art coincident with nobleness of +disposition, neglect of art must be always the source or sign of that +nobleness. But if we pass from the Indian peninsula into other +countries of the globe; and from our own recent experience, to the +records of history, we shall still find one great fact fronting us, in +stern universality--namely, the apparent connection of great success in +art with subsequent national degradation. You find, in the first place, +that the nations which possessed a refined art were always subdued by +those who possessed none: you find the Lydian subdued by the Mede; the +Athenian by the Spartan; the Greek by the Roman; the Roman by the Goth; +the Burgundian by the Switzer: but you find, beyond this--that even +where no attack by any external power has accelerated the catastrophe +of the state, the period in which any given people reach their highest +power in art is precisely that in which they appear to sign the warrant +of their own ruin; and that, from the moment in which a perfect statue +appears in Florence, a perfect picture in Venice, or a perfect fresco +in Rome, from that hour forward, probity, industry, and courage seem to +be exiled from their walls, and they perish in a sculpturesque +paralysis, or a many-coloured corruption. + +But even this is not all. As art seems thus, in its delicate form, to +be one of the chief promoters of indolence and sensuality,--so, I need +hardly remind you, it hitherto has appeared only in energetic +manifestation when it was in the service of superstition. The four +greatest manifestations of human intellect which founded the four +principal kingdoms of art, Egyptian, Babylonian, Greek, and Italian, +were developed by the strong excitement of active superstition in the +worship of Osiris, Belus, Minerva, and the Queen of Heaven. Therefore, +to speak briefly, it may appear very difficult to show that art has +ever yet existed in a consistent and thoroughly energetic school, +unless it was engaged in the propagation of falsehood, or the +encouragement of vice. + +And finally, while art has thus shown itself always active in the +service of luxury and idolatry, it has also been strongly directed to +the exaltation of cruelty. A nation which lives a pastoral and innocent +life never decorates the shepherd's staff or the plough-handle, but +races who live by depredation and slaughter nearly always bestow +exquisite ornaments on the quiver, the helmet, and the spear. + +Does it not seem to you, then, on all these three counts, more than +questionable whether we are assembled here in Kensington Museum to any +good purpose? Might we not justly be looked upon with suspicion and +fear, rather than with sympathy, by the innocent and unartistical +public? Are we even sure of ourselves? Do we know what we are about? +Are we met here as honest people? or are we not rather so many +Catilines assembled to devise the hasty degradation of our country, or, +like a conclave of midnight witches, to summon and send forth, on new +and unexpected missions, the demons of luxury, cruelty, and +superstition? + +I trust, upon the whole, that it is not so: I am sure that Mr. Redgrave +and Mr. Cole do not at all include results of this kind in their +conception of the ultimate objects of the institution which owes so +much to their strenuous and well-directed exertions. And I have put +this painful question before you, only that we may face it thoroughly, +and, as I hope, out-face it. If you will give it a little sincere +attention this evening, I trust we may find sufficiently good reasons +for our work, and proceed to it hereafter, as all good workmen should +do, with clear heads, and calm consciences. + +To return, then, to the first point of difficulty, the relations +between art and mental disposition in India and Scotland. It is quite +true that the art of India is delicate and refined. But it has one +curious character distinguishing it from all other art of equal merit +in design--_it never represents a natural fact_. It either forms +its compositions out of meaningless fragments of colour and flowings of +line; or if it represents any living creature, it represents that +creature under some distorted and monstrous form. To all the facts and +forms of nature it wilfully and resolutely opposes itself; it will not +draw a man, but an eight-armed monster; it will not draw a flower, but +only a spiral or a zigzag. + +It thus indicates that the people who practise it are cut off from all +possible sources of healthy knowledge or natural delight; that they +have wilfully sealed up and put aside the entire volume of the world, +and have got nothing to read, nothing to dwell upon, but that +imagination of the thoughts of their hearts, of which we are told that +"it is only evil continually." Over the whole spectacle of creation +they have thrown a veil in which there is no rent. For them no star +peeps through the blanket of the dark--for them neither their heaven +shines nor their mountains rise--for them the flowers do not blossom-- +for them the creatures of field and forest do not live. They lie bound +in the dungeon of their own corruption, encompassed only by doleful +phantoms, or by spectral vacancy. + +Need I remind you what an exact reverse of this condition of mind, as +respects the observance of nature, is presented by the people whom we +have just been led to contemplate in contrast with the Indian race? You +will find upon reflection, that all the highest points of the Scottish +character are connected with impressions derived straight from the +natural scenery of their country. No nation has ever before shown, in +the general tone of its language--in the general current of its +literature--so constant a habit of hallowing its passions and +confirming its principles by direct association with the charm, or +power, of nature. The writings of Scott and Burns--and yet more, of the +far greater poets than Burns who gave Scotland her traditional +ballads,--furnish you in every stanza--almost in every line--with +examples of this association of natural scenery with the passions; +[Footnote: The great poets of Scotland, like the great poets of all +other countries, never write dissolutely, either in matter or method; +but with stern and measured meaning in every syllable. Here's a bit of +first-rate work for example: + + "Tweed said to Till, + 'What gars ye rin sae still?' + Till said to Tweed, + 'Though ye rin wi' speed, + And I rin slaw, + Whar ye droon ae man, + I droon twa.'"] + +but an instance of its farther connection with moral principle struck +me forcibly just at the time when I was most lamenting the absence of +art among the people. In one of the loneliest districts of Scotland, +where the peat cottages are darkest, just at the western foot of that +great mass of the Grampians which encircles the sources of the Spey and +the Dee, the main road which traverses the chain winds round the foot +of a broken rock called Crag, or Craig Ellachie. There is nothing +remarkable in either its height or form; it is darkened with a few +scattered pines, and touched along its summit with a flush of heather; +but it constitutes a kind of headland, or leading promontory, in the +group of hills to which it belongs--a sort of initial letter of the +mountains; and thus stands in the mind of the inhabitants of the +district, the Clan Grant, for a type of their country, and of the +influence of that country upon themselves. Their sense of this is +beautifully indicated in the war-cry of the clan, "Stand fast, Craig +Ellachie." You may think long over those few words without exhausting +the deep wells of feeling and thought contained in them--the love of +the native land, the assurance of their faithfulness to it; the subdued +and gentle assertion of indomitable courage--I _may_ need to be +told to stand, but, if I do, Craig Ellachie does. You could not but +have felt, had you passed beneath it at the time when so many of +England's dearest children were being defended by the strength of heart +of men born at its foot, how often among the delicate Indian palaces, +whose marble was pallid with horror, and whose vermilion was darkened +with blood, the remembrance of its rough grey rocks and purple heaths +must have risen before the sight of the Highland soldier; how often the +hailing of the shot and the shriek of battle would pass away from his +hearing, and leave only the whisper of the old pine branches--"Stand +fast, Craig Ellachie!" + +You have, in these two nations, seen in direct opposition the effects +on moral sentiment of art without nature, and of nature without art. +And you see enough to justify you in suspecting--while, if you choose +to investigate the subject more deeply and with other examples, you +will find enough to justify you in _concluding_--that art, +followed as such, and for its own sake, irrespective of the +interpretation of nature by it, is destructive of whatever is best and +noblest in humanity; but that nature, however simply observed, or +imperfectly known, is, in the degree of the affection felt for it, +protective and helpful to all that is noblest in humanity. + +You might then conclude farther, that art, so far as it was devoted to +the record or the interpretation of nature, would be helpful and +ennobling also. + +And you would conclude this with perfect truth. Let me repeat the +assertion distinctly and solemnly, as the first that I am permitted to +make in this building, devoted in a way so new and so admirable to the +service of the art-students of England--Wherever art is practised for +its own sake, and the delight of the workman is in what he _does_ +and _produces_, instead of what he _interprets_ or _exhibits_, +--there art has an influence of the most fatal kind on brain and heart, +and it issues, if long so pursued, in the _destruction both of intellectual +power_ and _moral principal_; whereas art, devoted humbly and self- +forgetfully to the clear statement and record of the facts of the universe, +is always helpful and beneficent to mankind, full of comfort, strength, +and salvation. + +Now, when you were once well assured of this, you might logically infer +another thing, namely, that when Art was occupied in the function in +which she was serviceable, she would herself be strengthened by the +service, and when she was doing what Providence without doubt intended +her to do, she would gain in vitality and dignity just as she advanced +in usefulness. On the other hand, you might gather, that when her +agency was distorted to the deception or degradation of mankind, she +would herself be equally misled and degraded--that she would be checked +in advance, or precipitated in decline. + +And this is the truth also; and holding this clue you will easily and +justly interpret the phenomena of history. So long as Art is steady in +the contemplation and exhibition of natural facts, so long she herself +lives and grows; and in her own life and growth partly implies, partly +secures, that of the nation in the midst of which she is practised. But +a time has always hitherto come, in which, having thus reached a +singular perfection, she begins to contemplate that perfection, and to +imitate it, and deduce rules and forms from it; and thus to forget her +duty and ministry as the interpreter and discoverer of Truth. And in +the very instant when this diversion of her purpose and forgetfulness +of her function take place--forgetfulness generally coincident with her +apparent perfection--in that instant, I say, begins her actual +catastrophe; and by her own fall--so far as she has influence--she +accelerates the ruin of the nation by which she is practised. + +The study, however, of the effect of art on the mind of nations is one +rather for the historian than for us; at all events it is one for the +discussion of which we have no more time this evening. But I will ask +your patience with me while I try to illustrate, in some further +particulars, the dependence of the healthy state and power of art +itself upon the exercise of its appointed function in the +interpretation of fact. + +You observe that I always say _interpretation_, never +_imitation_. My reason for so doing is, first, that good art +rarely imitates; it usually only describes or explains. But my second +and chief reason is that good art always consists of two things: First, +the observation of fact; secondly, the manifesting of human design and +authority in the way that fact is told. Great and good art must unite +the two; it cannot exist for a moment but in their unity; it consists +of the two as essentially as water consists of oxygen and hydrogen, or +marble of lime and carbonic acid. + +Let us inquire a little into the nature of each of the elements. The +first element, we say, is the love of Nature, leading to the effort to +observe and report her truly. And this is the first and leading +element. Review for yourselves the history of art, and you will find +this to be a manifest certainty, that _no great school ever yet +existed which had not for primal aim the representation of some natural +fact as truly as possible_. There have only yet appeared in the +world three schools of perfect art--schools, that is to say, that did +their work as well as it seems possible to do it. These are the +Athenian, [Footnote: See below, the farther notice of the real spirit +of Greek work, in the address at Bradford.] Florentine, and Venetian. +The Athenian proposed to itself the perfect representation of the form +of the human body. It strove to do that as well as it could; it did +that as well as it can be done; and all its greatness was founded upon +and involved in that single and honest effort. The Florentine school +proposed to itself the perfect expression of human emotion--the showing +of the effects of passion in the human face and gesture. I call this +the Florentine school, because, whether you take Raphael for the +culminating master of expressional art in Italy, or Leonardo, or +Michael Angelo, you will find that the whole energy of the national +effort which produced those masters had its root in Florence; not at +Urbino or Milan. I say, then, this Florentine or leading Italian school +proposed to itself human expression for its aim in natural truth; it +strove to do that as well as it could--did it as well as it can be +done--and all its greatness is rooted in that single and honest effort. +Thirdly, the Venetian school propose the representation of the effect +of colour and shade on all things; chiefly on the human form. It tried +to do that as well as it could--did it as well as it can be done--and +all its greatness is founded on that single and honest effort. + +Pray, do not leave this room without a perfectly clear holding of these +three ideas. You may try them, and toss them about afterwards, as much +as you like, to see if they'll bear shaking; but do let me put them +well and plainly into your possession. Attach them to three works of +art which you all have either seen or continually heard of. There's the +(so-called) "Theseus" of the Elgin marbles. That represents the whole +end and aim of the Athenian school--the natural form of the human body. +All their conventional architecture--their graceful shaping and +painting of pottery--whatsoever other art they practised--was dependent +for its greatness on this sheet-anchor of central aim: true shape of +living man. Then take, for your type of the Italian school, Raphael's +"Disputa del Sacramento;" that will be an accepted type by everybody, +and will involve no possibly questionable points: the Germans will +admit it; the English academicians will admit it; and the English +purists and pre-Raphaelites will admit it. Well, there you have the +truth of human expression proposed as an aim. That is the way people +look when they feel this or that--when they have this or that other +mental character: are they devotional, thoughtful, affectionate, +indignant, or inspired? are they prophets, saints, priests, or kings? +then--whatsoever is truly thoughtful, affectionate, prophetic, +priestly, kingly--_that_ the Florentine school tried to discern, +and show; _that_ they have discerned and shown; and all their +greatness is first fastened in their aim at this central truth--the +open expression of the living human soul. Lastly, take Veronese's +"Marriage in Cana" in the Louvre. There you have the most perfect +representation possible of colour, and light, and shade, as they affect +the external aspect of the human form, and its immediate accessories, +architecture, furniture, and dress. This external aspect of noblest +nature was the first aim of the Venetians, and all their greatness +depended on their resolution to achieve, and their patience in +achieving it. + +Here, then, are the three greatest schools of the former world +exemplified for you in three well-known works. The Phidian "Theseus" +represents the Greek school pursuing truth of form; the "Disputa" of +Raphael, the Florentine school pursuing truth of mental expression; the +"Marriage in Cana," the Venetian school pursuing truth of colour and +light. But do not suppose that the law which I am stating to you--the +great law of art-life--can only be seen in these, the most powerful of +all art schools. It is just as manifest in each and every school that +ever has had life in it at all. Wheresoever the search after truth +begins, there life begins; wheresoever that search ceases, there life +ceases. As long as a school of art holds any chain of natural facts, +trying to discover more of them and express them better daily, it may +play hither and thither as it likes on this side of the chain or that; +it may design grotesques and conventionalisms, build the simplest +buildings, serve the most practical utilities, yet all it does will be +gloriously designed and gloriously done; but let it once quit hold of +the chain of natural fact, cease to pursue that as the clue to its +work; let it propose to itself any other end than preaching this living +word, and think first of showing its own skill or its own fancy, and +from that hour its fall is precipitate--its destruction sure; nothing +that it does or designs will ever have life or loveliness in it more; +its hour has come, and there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor +wisdom in the grave whither it goeth. + +Let us take for example that school of art over which many of you would +perhaps think this law had but little power--the school of Gothic +architecture. Many of us may have been in the habit of thinking of that +school rather as of one of forms than of facts--a school of pinnacles, +and buttresses, and conventional mouldings, and disguise of nature by +monstrous imaginings--not a school of truth at all. I think I shall be +able, even in the little time we have to-night, to show that this is +not so; and that our great law holds just as good at Amiens and +Salisbury, as it does at Athens and Florence. + +I will go back then first to the very beginnings of Gothic art, and +before you, the students of Kensington, as an impanelled jury, I will +bring two examples of the barbarism out of which Gothic art emerges, +approximately contemporary in date and parallel in executive skill; +but, the one, a barbarism that did not get on, and could not get on; +the other, a barbarism that could get on, and did get on; and you, the +impanelled jury, shall judge what is the essential difference between +the two barbarisms, and decide for yourselves what is the seed of life +in the one, and the sign of death in the other. + +The first,--that which has in it the sign of death,--furnishes us at +the same time with an illustration far too interesting to be passed by, +of certain principles much depended on by our common modern designers. +Taking up one of our architectural publications the other day, and +opening it at random, I chanced upon this piece of information, put in +rather curious English; but you shall have it as it stands-- + +"Aristotle asserts, that the greatest species of the beautiful are +Order, Symmetry, and the Definite." + +I should tell you, however, that this statement is not given as +authoritative; it is one example of various Architectural teachings, +given in a report in the _Building Chronicle_ for May, 1857, of a +lecture on Proportion; in which the only thing the lecturer appears to +have proved was that,-- + +The system of dividing the diameter of the shaft of a column into +parts for copying the ancient architectural remains of Greece and Rome, +adopted by architects from Vitruvius (circa B.C. 25) to the present +period, as a method for producing ancient architecture, _is entirely +useless_, for the several parts of Grecian architecture cannot be +reduced or subdivided by this system; neither does it apply to the +architecture of Rome. + +Still, as far as I can make it out, the lecture appears to have been +one of those of which you will just at present hear so many, the +protests of architects who have no knowledge of sculpture--or of any +other mode of expressing natural beauty--_against_ natural beauty; +and their endeavour to substitute mathematical proportions for the +knowledge of life they do not possess, and the representation of life +of which they are incapable.[Illustration] Now, this substitution of +obedience to mathematical law for sympathy with observed life, is the +first characteristic of the hopeless work of all ages; as such, you +will find it eminently manifested in the specimen I have to give you of +the hopeless Gothic barbarism; the barbarism from which nothing could +emerge--for which no future was possible but extinction. The +Aristotelian principles of the Beautiful are, you remember, Order, +Symmetry, and the Definite. Here you have the three, in perfection, +applied to the ideal of an angel, in a psalter of the eighth century, +existing in the library of St. John's College, Cambridge.[Footnote: I +copy this woodcut from Westwood's "Palaeographia Sacra."] + +Now, you see the characteristics of this utterly dead school are, first +the wilful closing of its eyes to natural facts;--for, however ignorant +a person may be, he need only look at a human being to see that it has +a mouth as well as eyes; and secondly, the endeavour to adorn or +idealize natural fact according to its own notions: it puts red spots +in the middle of the hands, and sharpens the thumbs, thinking to +improve them. Here you have the most pure type possible of the +principles of idealism in all ages: whenever people don't look at +Nature, they always think they can improve her. You will also admire, +doubtless, the exquisite result of the application of our great modern +architectural principle of beauty--symmetry, or equal balance of part +by part; you see even the eyes are made symmetrical--entirely round, +instead of irregular, oval; and the iris is set properly in the middle, +instead of--as nature has absurdly put it--rather under the upper lid. +You will also observe the "principle of the pyramid" in the general +arrangement of the figure, and the value of "series" in the placing of +dots. + +From this dead barbarism we pass to living barbarism--to work done by +hands quite as rude, if not ruder, and by minds as uninformed; and yet +work which in every line of it is prophetic of power, and has in it the +sure dawn of day. You have often heard it said that Giotto was the +founder of art in Italy. He was not: neither he, nor Giunta Pisano, nor +Niccolo Pisano. They all laid strong hands to the work, and brought it +first into aspect above ground; but the foundation had been laid for +them by the builders of the Lombardic churches in the valleys of the +Adda and the Arno. It is in the sculpture of the round arched churches +of North Italy, bearing disputable dates, ranging from the eighth to +the twelfth century, that you will find the lowest struck roots of the +art of Titian and Raphael. [Footnote: I have said elsewhere, "the root +of _all_ art is struck in the thirteenth century." This is quite +true: but of course some of the smallest fibres run lower, as in this +instance.] I go, therefore, to the church which is certainly the +earliest of these, St. Ambrogio, of Milan, said still to retain some +portions of the actual structure from which St. Ambrose excluded +Theodosius, and at all events furnishing the most archaic examples of +Lombardic sculpture in North Italy. I do not venture to guess their +date; they are barbarous enough for any date. + +We find the pulpit of this church covered with interlacing patterns, +closely resembling those of the manuscript at Cambridge, but among them +is figure sculpture of a very different kind. It is wrought with mere +incisions in the stone, of which the effect may be tolerably given by +single lines in a drawing. Remember, therefore, for a moment--as +characteristic of culminating Italian art--Michael Angelo's fresco of +the "Temptation of Eve," in the Sistine chapel, and you will be more +interested in seeing the birth of Italian art, illustrated by the same +subject, from St. Ambrogio, of Milan, the "Serpent beguiling Eve." +[Footnote: This cut is ruder than it should be: the incisions in the +marble have a lighter effect than these rough black lines; but it is +not worth while to do it better.] + +Yet, in that sketch, rude and ludicrous as it is, you have the elements +of life in their first form. The people who could do that were sure to +get on. For, observe, the workman's whole aim is straight at the facts, +as well as he can get them; and not merely at the facts, but at the +very heart of the facts. A common workman might have looked at nature +for his serpent, but he would have thought only of its scales. But this +fellow does not want scales, nor coils; he can do without them; he +wants the serpent's heart--malice and insinuation;--and he has actually +got them to some extent. So also a common workman, even in this +barbarous stage of art, might have carved Eve's arms and body a good +deal better; but this man does not care about arms and body, if he can +only get at Eve's mind--show that she is pleased at being flattered, +and yet in a state of uncomfortable hesitation. And some look of +listening, of complacency, and of embarrassment he has verily got:-- +note the eyes slightly askance, the lips compressed, and the right hand +nervously grasping the left arm: nothing can be declared impossible to +the people who could begin thus--the world is open to them, and all +that is in it; while, on the contrary, nothing is possible to the man +who did the symmetrical angel--the world is keyless to him; he has +built a cell for himself in which he must abide, barred up for ever-- +there is no more hope for him than for a sponge or a madrepore. + +I shall not trace from this embryo the progress of Gothic art in Italy, +because it is much complicated and involved with traditions of other +schools, and because most of the students will be less familiar with +its results than with their own northern buildings. So, these two +designs indicating Death and Life in the beginnings of mediaeval art, +we will take an example of the _progress_ of that art from our +northern work. Now, many of you, doubtless, have been interested by the +mass, grandeur, and gloom of Norman architecture, as much as by Gothic +traceries; and when you hear me say that the root of all good work lies +in natural facts, you doubtless think instantly of your round arches, +with their rude cushion capitals, and of the billet or zigzag work by +which they are surrounded, and you cannot see what the knowledge of +nature has to do with either the simple plan or the rude mouldings. But +all those simple conditions of Norman art are merely the expiring of it +towards the extreme north. Do not study Norman architecture in +Northumberland, but in Normandy, and then you will find that it is just +a peculiarly manly, and practically useful, form of the whole great +French school of rounded architecture. And where has that French school +its origin? Wholly in the rich conditions of sculpture, which, rising +first out of imitations of the Roman bas-reliefs, covered all the +faēades of the French early churches with one continuous arabesque of +floral or animal life. If you want to study round-arched buildings, do +not go to Durham, but go to Poictiers, and there you will see how all +the simple decorations which give you so much pleasure even in their +isolated application were invented by persons practised in carving men, +monsters, wild animals, birds, and flowers, in overwhelming redundance; +and then trace this architecture forward in central France, and you +will find it loses nothing of its richness--it only gains in truth, and +therefore in grace, until just at the moment of transition into the +pointed style, you have the consummate type of the sculpture of the +school given you in the west front of the Cathedral of Chartres. From +that front I have chosen two fragments to illustrate it. [Footnote: +This part of the lecture was illustrated by two drawings, made +admirably by Mr. J. T. Laing, with the help of photographs from statues +at Chartres. The drawings may be seen at present at the Kensington +Museum: but any large photograph of the west front of Chartres will +enable the reader to follow what is stated in the lecture, as far as is +needful.] + +These statues have been long, and justly, considered as representative +of the highest skill of the twelfth or earliest part of the thirteenth +century in France; and they indeed possess a dignity and delicate +charm, which are for the most part wanting in later works. It is owing +partly to real nobleness of feature, but chiefly to the grace, mingled +with severity, of the falling lines of excessively _thin_ drapery; +as well as to a most studied finish in composition, every part of the +ornamentation tenderly harmonizing with the rest. So far as their power +over certain tones of religious mind is owing to a palpable degree of +non-naturalism in them, I do not praise it--the exaggerated thinness of +body and stiffness of attitude are faults; but they are noble faults, +and give the statues a strange look of forming part of the very +building itself, and sustaining it--not like the Greek caryatid, +without effort--nor like the Renaissance caryatid, by painful or +impossible effort--but as if all that was silent and stern, and +withdrawn apart, and stiffened in chill of heart against the terror of +earth, had passed into a shape of eternal marble; and thus the Ghost +had given, to bear up the pillars of the church on earth, all the +patient and expectant nature that it needed no more in heaven. This is +the transcendental view of the meaning of those sculptures. I do not +dwell upon it. What I do lean upon is their purely naturalistic and +vital power. They are all portraits--unknown, most of them, I believe, +--but palpably and unmistakeably portraits, if not taken from the actual +person for whom the statue stands, at all events studied from some +living person whose features might fairly represent those of the king +or saint intended. Several of them I suppose to be authentic: there is +one of a queen, who has evidently, while she lived, been notable for +her bright black eyes. The sculptor has cut the iris deep into the +stone, and her dark eyes are still suggested with her smile. + +There is another thing I wish you to notice specially in these statues +--the way in which the floral moulding is associated with the vertical +lines of the figure. You have thus the utmost complexity and richness +of curvature set side by side with the pure and delicate parallel +lines, and both the characters gain in interest and beauty; but there +is deeper significance in the thing than that of mere effect in +composition; significance not intended on the part of the sculptor, but +all the more valuable because unintentional. I mean the close +association of the beauty of lower nature in animals and flowers, with +the beauty of higher nature in human form. You never get this in Greek +work. Greek statues are always isolated; blank fields of stone, or +depths of shadow, relieving the form of the statue, as the world of +lower nature which they despised retired in darkness from their hearts. +Here, the clothed figure seems the type of the Christian spirit--in +many respects feebler and more contracted--but purer; clothed in its +white robes and crown, and with the riches of all creation at its side. + +The next step in the change will be set before you in a moment, merely +by comparing this statue from the west front of Chartres with that of +the Madonna, from the south transept door of Amiens. [Footnote: There +are many photographs of this door and of its central statue. Its +sculpture in the tympanum is farther described in the Fourth Lecture.] + +This Madonna, with the sculpture round her, represents the culminating +power of Gothic art in the thirteenth century. Sculpture has been +gaining continually in the interval; gaining, simply because becoming +every day more truthful, more tender, and more suggestive. By the way, +the old Douglas motto, "Tender and true," may wisely be taken up again +by all of us, for our own, in art no less than in other things. Depend +upon it, the first universal characteristic of all great art is +Tenderness, as the second is Truth. I find this more and more every +day: an infinitude of tenderness is the chief gift and inheritance of +all the truly great men. It is sure to involve a relative intensity of +disdain towards base things, and an appearance of sternness and +arrogance in the eyes of all hard, stupid, and vulgar people--quite +terrific to such, if they are capable of terror, and hateful to them, +if they are capable of nothing higher than hatred. Dante's is the great +type of this class of mind. I say the first inheritance is Tenderness-- +the second Truth, because the Tenderness is in the make of the +creature, the Truth in his acquired habits and knowledge; besides, the +love comes first in dignity as well as in time, and that is always pure +and complete: the truth, at best, imperfect. + +To come back to our statue. You will observe that the arrangement of +this sculpture is exactly the same as at Chartres--severe falling +drapery, set off by rich floral ornament at the side; but the statue is +now completely animated: it is no longer fixed as an upright pillar, +but bends aside out of its niche, and the floral ornament, instead of +being a conventional wreath, is of exquisitely arranged hawthorn. The +work, however, as a whole, though perfectly characteristic of the +advance of the age in style and purpose, is in some subtler qualities +inferior to that of Chartres. The individual sculptor, though trained +in a more advanced school, has been himself a man of inferior order of +mind compared to the one who worked at Chartres. But I have not time to +point out to you the subtler characters by which I know this. + +This statue, then, marks the culminating point of Gothic art, because, +up to this time, the eyes of its designers had been steadily fixed on +natural truth--they had been advancing from flower to flower, from form +to form, from face to face,--gaining perpetually in knowledge and +veracity--therefore, perpetually in power and in grace. But at this +point a fatal change came over their aim. From the statue they now +began to turn the attention chiefly to the niche of the statue, and +from the floral ornament to the mouldings that enclosed the floral +ornament. The first result of this was, however, though not the +grandest, yet the most finished of northern genius. You have, in the +earlier Gothic, less wonderful construction, less careful masonry, far +less expression of harmony of parts in the balance of the building. +Earlier work always has more or less of the character of a good solid +wall with irregular holes in it, well carved wherever there is room. +But the last phase of good Gothic has no room to spare; it rises as +high as it can on narrowest foundation, stands in perfect strength with +the least possible substance in its bars; connects niche with niche, +and line with line, in an exquisite harmony, from which no stone can be +removed, and to which you can add not a pinnacle; and yet introduces in +rich, though now more calculated profusion, the living element of its +sculpture: sculpture in the quatrefoils--sculpture in the brackets-- +sculpture in the gargoyles--sculpture in the niches--sculpture in the +ridges and hollows of its mouldings,--not a shadow without meaning, and +not a light without life. [Footnote: The two _transepts_ of Rouen +Cathedral illustrate this style. There are plenty of photographs of +them. I take this opportunity of repeating what I have several times +before stated, for the sake of travellers, that St. Ouen, impressive as +it is, is entirely inferior to the transepts of Rouen Cathedral.] But +with this very perfection of his work came the unhappy pride of the +builder in what he had done. As long as he had been merely raising +clumsy walls and carving them like a child, in waywardness of fancy, +his delight was in the things he thought of as he carved; but when he +had once reached this pitch of constructive science, he began to think +only how cleverly he could put the stones together. The question was +not now with him, What can I represent? but, How high can I build--how +wonderfully can I hang this arch in air, or weave this tracery across +the clouds? And the catastrophe was instant and irrevocable. +Architecture became in France a mere web of waving lines,--in England a +mere grating of perpendicular ones. Redundance was substituted for +invention, and geometry for passion; tho Gothic art became a mere +expression of wanton expenditure, and vulgar mathematics; and was swept +away, as it then deserved to be swept away, by the severer pride, and +purer learning, of the schools founded on classical traditions. + +You cannot now fail to see, how, throughout the history of this +wonderful art--from its earliest dawn in Lombardy to its last +catastrophe in France and England--sculpture, founded on love of +nature, was the talisman of its existence; wherever sculpture was +practised, architecture arose--wherever that was neglected, +architecture expired; and, believe me, all you students who love this +mediaeval art, there is no hope of your ever doing any good with it, +but on this everlasting principle. Your patriotic associations with it +are of no use; your romantic associations with it--either of chivalry +or religion--are of no use; they are worse than useless, they are +false. Gothic is not an art for knights and nobles; it is an art for +the people: it is not an art for churches or sanctuaries; it is an art +for houses and homes: it is not an art for England only, but an art for +the world: above all, it is not an art of form or tradition only, but +an art of vital practice and perpetual renewal. And whosoever pleads +for it as an ancient or a formal thing, and tries to teach it you as an +ecclesiastical tradition or a geometrical science, knows nothing of its +essence, less than nothing of its power. + +Leave, therefore, boldly, though not irreverently, mysticism and +symbolism on the one side; cast away with utter scorn geometry and +legalism on the other; seize hold of God's hand and look full in the +face of His creation, and there is nothing He will not enable you to +achieve. + +Thus, then, you will find--and the more profound and accurate your +knowledge of the history of art the more assuredly you will find--that +the living power in all the real schools, be they great or small, is +love of nature. But do not mistake me by supposing that I mean this law +to be all that is necessary to form a school. There needs to be much +superadded to it, though there never must be anything superseding it. +The main thing which needs to be superadded is the gift of design. + +It is always dangerous, and liable to diminish the clearness of +impression, to go over much ground in the course of one lecture. But I +dare not present you with a maimed view of this important subject: I +dare not put off to another time, when the same persons would not be +again assembled, the statement of the great collateral necessity which, +as well as the necessity of truth, governs all noble art. + +That collateral necessity is _the visible operation of human +intellect in the presentation of truth, _the evidence of what is +properly called design or plan in the work, no less than of veracity. A +looking-glass does not design--it receives and communicates +indiscriminately all that passes before it; a painter designs when he +chooses some things, refuses others, and arranges all. + +This selection and arrangement must have influence over everything that +the art is concerned with, great or small--over lines, over colours, +and over ideas. Given a certain group of colours, by adding another +colour at the side of them, you will either improve the group and +render it more delightful, or injure it, and render it discordant and +unintelligible. "Design" is the choosing and placing the colour so as +to help and enhance all the other colours it is set beside. So of +thoughts: in a good composition, every idea is presented in just that +order, and with just that force, which will perfectly connect it with +all the other thoughts in the work, and will illustrate the others as +well as receive illustration from them; so that the entire chain of +thoughts offered to the beholder's mind shall be received by him with +as much delight and with as little effort as is possible. And thus you +see design, properly so called, is human invention, consulting human +capacity. Out of the infinite heap of things around us in the world, it +chooses a certain number which it can thoroughly grasp, and presents +this group to the spectator in the form best calculated to enable him +to grasp it also, and to grasp it with delight. + +And accordingly, the capacities of both gatherer and receiver being +limited, the object is to make _everything that you offer helpful_ +and precious. If you give one grain of weight too much, so as to +increase fatigue without profit, or bulk without value--that added +grain is hurtful; if you put one spot or one syllable out of its proper +place, that spot or syllable will be destructive--how far destructive +it is almost impossible to tell: a misplaced touch may sometimes +annihilate the labour of hours. Nor are any of us prepared to +understand the work of any great master, till we feel this, and feel it +as distinctly as we do the value of arrangement in the notes of music. +Take any noble musical air, and you find, on examining it, that not one +even of the faintest or shortest notes can be removed without +destruction to the whole passage in which it occurs; and that every +note in the passage is twenty times more beautiful so introduced, than +it would have been if played singly on the instrument. Precisely this +degree of arrangement and relation must exist between every touch +[Footnote: Literally. I know how exaggerated this statement sounds; but +I mean it,--every syllable of it.--See Appendix IV.] and line in a +great picture. You may consider the whole as a prolonged musical +composition: its parts, as separate airs connected in the story; its +little bits and fragments of colour and line, as separate passages or +bars in melodies; and down to the minutest note of the whole--down to +the minutest _touch_,--if there is one that can be spared--that +one is doing mischief. + +Remember therefore always, you have two characters in which all +greatness of art consists:--First, the earnest and intense seizing of +natural facts; then the ordering those facts by strength of human +intellect, so as to make them, for all who look upon them, to the +utmost serviceable, memorable, and beautiful. And thus great art is +nothing else than the type of strong and noble life; for, as the +ignoble person, in his dealings with all that occurs in the world about +him, first sees nothing clearly,--looks nothing fairly in the face, and +then allows himself to be swept away by the trampling torrent, and +unescapable force, of the things that he would not foresee, and could +not understand: so the noble person, looking the facts of the world +full in the face, and fathoming them with deep faculty, then deals with +them in unalarmed intelligence and unhurried strength, and becomes, +with his human intellect and will, no unconscious nor insignificant +agent, in consummating their good, and restraining their evil. + +Thus in human life you have the two fields of rightful toil for ever +distinguished, yet for ever associated; Truth first--plan or design, +founded thereon; so in art, you have the same two fields for ever +distinguished, for ever associated; Truth first--plan, or design, +founded thereon. + +Now hitherto there is not the least difficulty in the subject; none of +you can look for a moment at any great sculptor or painter without +seeing the full bearing of these principles. But a difficulty arises +when you come to examine the art of a lower order, concerned with +furniture and manufacture, for in that art the element of design enters +without, apparently, the element of truth. You have often to obtain +beauty and display invention without direct representation of nature. +Yet, respecting all these things also, the principle is perfectly +simple. If the designer of furniture, of cups and vases, of dress +patterns, and the like, exercises himself continually in the imitation +of natural form in some leading division of his work; then, holding by +this stem of life, he may pass down into all kinds of merely +geometrical or formal design with perfect safety, and with noble +results.[Footnote: This principle, here cursorily stated, is one of the +chief subjects of inquiry in the following Lectures.] Thus Giotto, +being primarily a figure painter and sculptor, is, secondarily, the +richest of all designers in mere mosaic of coloured bars and triangles; +thus Benvenuto Cellini, being in all the higher branches of metal work +a perfect imitator of nature, is in all its lower branches the best +designer of curve for lips of cups and handles of vases; thus Holbein, +exercised primarily in the noble art of truthful portraiture, becomes, +secondarily, the most exquisite designer of embroideries of robe, and +blazonries on wall; and thus Michael Angelo, exercised primarily in the +drawing of body and limb, distributes in the mightiest masses the order +of his pillars, and in the loftiest shadow the hollows of his dome. But +once quit hold of this living stem, and set yourself to the designing +of ornamentation, either in the ignorant play of your own heartless +fancy, as the Indian does, or according to received application of +heartless laws, as the modern European does, and there is but one word +for you--Death:--death of every healthy faculty, and of every noble +intelligence, incapacity of understanding one great work that man has +ever done, or of doing anything that it shall be helpful for him to +behold. You have cut yourselves off voluntarily, presumptuously, +insolently, from the whole teaching of your Maker in His Universe; you +have cut yourselves off from it, not because you were forced to +mechanical labour for your bread--not because your fate had appointed +you to wear away your life in walled chambers, or dig your life out of +dusty furrows; but, when your whole profession, your whole occupation-- +all the necessities and chances of your existence, led you straight to +the feet of the great Teacher, and thrust you into the treasury of His +works; where you have nothing to do but to live by gazing, and to grow +by wondering;--wilfully you bind up your eyes from the splendour-- +wilfully bind up your life-blood from its beating--wilfully turn your +backs upon all the majesties of Omnipotence--wilfully snatch your hands +from all the aids of love, and what can remain for you, but +helplessness and blindness,--except the worse fate than the being blind +yourselves--that of becoming Leaders of the blind? + +Do not think that I am speaking under excited feeling, or in any +exaggerated terms. I have written the words I use, that I may know what +I say, and that you, if you choose, may see what I have said. For, +indeed, I have set before you tonight, to the best of my power, the sum +and substance of the system of art to the promulgation of which I have +devoted my life hitherto, and intend to devote what of life may still +be spared to me. I have had but one steady aim in all that I have ever +tried to teach, namely--to declare that whatever was great in human art +was the expression of man's delight in God's work. + +And at this time I have endeavoured to prove to you--if you investigate +the subject you may more entirely prove to yourselves--that no school +ever advanced far which had not the love of natural fact as a primal +energy. But it is still more important for you to be assured that the +conditions of life and death in the art of nations are also the +conditions of life and death in your own; and that you have it, each in +his power at this very instant, to determine in which direction his +steps are turning. It seems almost a terrible thing to tell you, that +all here have all the power of knowing at once what hope there is for +them as artists; you would, perhaps, like better that there was some +unremovable doubt about the chances of the future--some possibility +that you might be advancing, in unconscious ways, towards unexpected +successes--some excuse or reason for going about, as students do so +often, to this master or the other, asking him if they have genius, and +whether they are doing right, and gathering, from his careless or +formal replies, vague flashes of encouragement, or fitfulnesses of +despair. There is no need for this--no excuse for it. All of you have +the trial of yourselves in your own power; each may undergo at this +instant, before his own judgment seat, the ordeal by fire. Ask +yourselves what is the leading motive which actuates you while you are +at work. I do not ask you what your leading motive is for working--that +is a different thing; you may have families to support--parents to +help--brides to win; you may have all these, or other such sacred and +pre-eminent motives, to press the morning's labour and prompt the +twilight thought. But when you are fairly _at_ the work, what is +the motive then which tells upon every touch of it? If it is the love +of that which your work represents--if, being a landscape painter, it +is love of hills and trees that moves you--if, being a figure painter, +it is love of human beauty and human soul that moves you--if, being a +flower or animal painter, it is love, and wonder, and delight in petal +and in limb that move you, then the Spirit is upon you, and the earth +is yours, and the fulness thereof. But if, on the other hand, it is +petty self-complacency in your own skill, trust in precepts and laws, +hope for academical or popular approbation, or avarice of wealth,--it +is quite possible that by steady industry, or even by fortunate chance, +you may win the applause, the position, the fortune, that you desire;-- +but one touch of true art you will never lay on canvas or on stone as +long as you live. + +Make, then, your choice, boldly and consciously, for one way or other +it _must_ be made. On the dark and dangerous side are set, the +pride which delights in self-contemplation--the indolence which rests +in unquestioned forms--the ignorance that despises what is fairest +among God's creatures, and the dulness that denies what is marvellous +in His working: there is a life of monotony for your own souls, and of +misguiding for those of others. And, on the other side, is open to your +choice the life of the crowned spirit, moving as a light in creation-- +discovering always--illuminating always, gaining every hour in +strength, yet bowed down every hour into deeper humility; sure of being +right in its aim, sure of being irresistible in its progress; happy in +what it has securely done--happier in what, day by day, it may as +securely hope; happiest at the close of life, when the right hand +begins to forget its cunning, to remember, that there never was a touch +of the chisel or the pencil it wielded, but has added to the knowledge +and quickened the happiness of mankind. + + + + +LECTURE II. + +THE UNITY OF ART. + +_Part of an Address delivered at Manchester, 14th March, 1859._ + +[Footnote: I was prevented, by press of other engagements, from +preparing this address with the care I wished; and forced to trust to +such expression as I could give at the moment to the points of +principal importance; reading, however, the close of the preceding +lecture, which I thought contained some truths that would bear +repetition. The whole was reported, better than it deserved, by Mr. +Pitman, of the _Manchester Courier_, and published nearly +verbatim. I have here extracted, from the published report, the facts +which I wish especially to enforce; and have a little cleared their +expression; its loose and colloquial character I cannot now help, +unless by re-writing the whole, which it seems not worth while to do.] + + +It is sometimes my pleasant duty to visit other cities, in the hope of +being able to encourage their art students; but here it is my +pleasanter privilege to come for encouragement myself. I do not know +when I have received so much as from the report read this evening by +Mr. Hammersley, bearing upon a subject which has caused me great +anxiety. For I have always felt in my own pursuit of art, and in my +endeavors to urge the pursuit of art on others, that while there are +many advantages now that never existed before, there are certain +grievous difficulties existing, just in the very cause that is giving +the stimulus to art--in the immense spread of the manufactures of every +country which is now attending vigorously to art. We find that +manufacture and art are now going on always together; that where there +is no manufacture there is no art. I know how much there is of +pretended art where there is no manufacture: there is much in Italy, +for instance; no country makes so bold pretence to the production of +new art as Italy at this moment; yet no country produces so little. If +you glance over the map of Europe, you will find that where the +manufactures are strongest, there art also is strongest. And yet I +always felt that there was an immense difficulty to be encountered by +the students who were in these centres of modern movement. They had to +avoid the notion that art and manufacture were in any respect one. Art +may be healthily associated with manufacture, and probably in future +will always be so; but the student must be strenuously warned against +supposing that they can ever be one and the same thing, that art can +ever be followed on the principles of manufacture. Each must be +followed separately; the one must influence the other, but each must be +kept distinctly separate from the other. + +It would be well if all students would keep clearly in their mind the +real distinction between those words which we use so often, +"Manufacture," "Art," and "Fine Art." "MANUFACTURE" is, according to +the etymology and right use of the word, "the making of anything by +hands,"--directly or indirectly, with or without the help of +instruments or machines. Anything proceeding from the hand of man is +manufacture; but it must have proceeded from his hand only, acting +mechanically, and uninfluenced at the moment by direct intelligence. + +Then, secondly, ART is the operation of the hand and the intelligence +of man together; there is an art of making machinery; there is an art +of building ships; an art of making carriages; and so on. All these, +properly called Arts, but not Fine Arts, are pursuits in which the hand +of man and his head go together, working at the same instant. + +Then FINE ART is that in which the hand, the head, and the _heart_ +of man go together. + +Recollect this triple group; it will help you to solve many difficult +problems. And remember that though the hand must be at the bottom of +everything, it must also go to the top of everything; for Fine Art must +be produced by the hand of man in a much greater and clearer sense than +manufacture is. Fine Art must always be produced by the subtlest of all +machines, which is the human hand. No machine yet contrived, or +hereafter contrivable, will ever equal the fine machinery of the human +fingers. Thoroughly perfect art is that which proceeds from the heart, +which involves all the noble emotions;--associates with these the head, +yet as inferior to the heart; and the hand, yet as inferior to the +heart and head; and thus brings out the whole man. + +Hence it follows that since Manufacture is simply the operation of the +hand of man in producing that which is useful to him, it essentially +separates itself from the emotions; when emotions interfere with +machinery they spoil it: machinery must go evenly, without emotion. But +the Fine Arts cannot go evenly; they always must have emotion ruling +their mechanism, and until the pupil begins to feel, and until all he +does associates itself with the current of his feeling, he is not an +artist. But pupils in all the schools in this country are now exposed +to all kinds of temptations which blunt their feelings. I constantly +feel discouraged in addressing them because I know not how to tell them +boldly what they ought to do, when I feel how practically difficult it +is for them to do it. There are all sorts of demands made upon them in +every direction, and money is to be made in every conceivable way but +the right way. If you paint as you ought, and study as you ought, +depend upon it the public will take no notice of you for a long while. +If you study wrongly, and try to draw the attention of the public upon +you,--supposing you to be clever students--you will get swift reward; +but the reward does not come fast when it is sought wisely; it is +always held aloof for a little while; the right roads of early life are +very quiet ones, hedged in from nearly all help or praise. But the +wrong roads are noisy,--vociferous everywhere with all kinds of demand +upon you for art which is not properly art at all; and in the various +meetings of modern interests, money is to be made in every way; but art +is to be followed only in _one_ way. That is what I want mainly to +say to you, or if not to you yourselves (for, from what I have heard +from your excellent master to-night, I know you are going on all +rightly), you must let me say it through you to others. Our Schools of +Art are confused by the various teaching and various interests that are +now abroad among us. Everybody is talking about art, and writing about +it, and more or less interested in it; everybody wants art, and there +is not art for everybody, and few who talk know what they are talking +about; thus students are led in all variable ways, while there is only +one way in which they can make steady progress, for true art is always +and will be always one. Whatever changes may be made in the customs of +society, whatever new machines we may invent, whatever new manufactures +we may supply, Fine Art must remain what it was two thousand years ago, +in the days of Phidias; two thousand years hence, it will be, in all +its principles, and in all its great effects upon the mind of man, just +the same. Observe this that I say, please, carefully, for I mean it to +the very utmost. _There is but one right way of doing any given thing +required of an artist_; there may be a hundred wrong, deficient, or +mannered ways, but there is only one complete and right way. Whenever +two artists are trying to do the same thing with the same materials, +and do it in different ways, one of them is wrong; he may be charmingly +wrong, or impressively wrong--various circumstances in his temper may +make his wrong pleasanter than any person's right; it may for him, +under his given limitations of knowledge or temper, be better perhaps +that he should err in his own way than try for anybody else's--but for +all that his way is wrong, and it is essential for all masters of +schools to know what the right way is, and what right art is, and to +see how simple and how single all right art has been, since the +beginning of it. + +But farther, not only is there but one way of _doing_ things +rightly, but there is only one way of _seeing_ them, and that is, +seeing the whole of them, without any choice, or more intense +perception of one point than another, owing to our special +idiosyncrasies. Thus, when Titian or Tintoret look at a human being, +they see at a glance the whole of its nature, outside and in; all that +it has of form, of colour, of passion, or of thought; saintliness, and +loveliness; fleshly body, and spiritual power; grace, or strength, or +softness, or whatsoever other quality, those men will see to the full, +and so paint, that, when narrower people come to look at what they have +done, every one may, if he chooses, find his own special pleasure in +the work. The sensualist will find sensuality in Titian; the thinker +will find thought; the saint, sanctity; the colourist, colour; the +anatomist, form; and yet the picture will never be a popular one in the +full sense, for none of these narrower people will find their special +taste so alone consulted, as that the qualities which would ensure +their gratification shall be sifted or separated from others; they are +checked by the presence of the other qualities which ensure the +gratification of other men. Thus, Titian is not soft enough for the +sensualist, Correggio suits him better; Titian is not defined enough +for the formalist,--Leonardo suits him better; Titian is not pure +enough for the religionist,--Raphael suits him better; Titian is not +polite enough for the man of the world,--Vandyke suits him better; +Titian is not forcible enough for the lovers of the picturesque,-- +Rembrandt suits him better. So Correggio is popular with a certain set, +and Vandyke with a certain set, and Rembrandt with a certain set. All +are great men, but of inferior stamp, and therefore Vandyke is popular, +and Rembrandt is popular, [Footnote: And Murillo, of all true painters +the narrowest, feeblest, and most superficial, for those reasons the +most popular.] but nobody cares much at heart about Titian; only there +is a strange under-current of everlasting murmur about his name, which +means the deep consent of all great men that he is greater than they-- +the consent of those who, having sat long enough at his feet, have +found in that restrained harmony of his strength there are indeed +depths of each balanced power more wonderful than all those separate +manifestations in inferior painters: that there is a softness more +exquisite than Correggio's, a purity loftier than Leonardo's, a force +mightier than Rembrandt's, a sanctity more solemn even than +Raffaelle's. + +Do not suppose that in saying this of Titian, I am returning to the old +eclectic theories of Bologna; for all those eclectic theories, observe, +were based, not upon an endeavour to unite the various characters of +nature (which it is possible to do), but the various narrownesses of +taste, which it is impossible to do. Rubens is not more vigorous than +Titian, but less vigorous; but because he is so narrow-minded as to +enjoy vigour only, he refuses to give the other qualities of nature, +which would interfere with that vigour and with our perception of it. +Again, Rembrandt is not a greater master of chiaroscuro than Titian;-- +he is a less master, but because he is so narrow-minded as to enjoy +chiaroscuro only, he withdraws from you the splendour of hue which +would interfere with this, and gives you only the shadow in which you +can at once feel it. + +Now all these specialties have their own charm in their own way: and +there are times when the particular humour of each man is refreshing to +us from its very distinctness; but the effort to add any other +qualities to this refreshing one instantly takes away the +distinctiveness, and therefore the exact character to be enjoyed in its +appeal to a particular humour in us. Our enjoyment arose from a +weakness meeting a weakness, from a partiality in the painter fitting +to a partiality in us, and giving us sugar when we wanted sugar, and +myrrh when we wanted myrrh; but sugar and myrrh are not meat: and when +we want meat and bread, we must go to better men. + +The eclectic schools endeavoured to unite these opposite partialities +and weaknesses. They trained themselves under masters of exaggeration, +and tried to unite opposite exaggerations. That was impossible. They +did not see that the only possible eclecticism had been already +accomplished;--the eclecticism of temperance, which, by the restraint +of force, gains higher force; and by the self-denial of delight, gains +higher delight. This you will find is ultimately the case with every +true and right master; at first, while we are tyros in art, or before +we have earnestly studied the man in question, we shall see little in +him; or perhaps see, as we think, deficiencies; we shall fancy he is +inferior to this man in that, and to the other man in the other; but as +we go on studying him we shall find that he has got both that and the +other; and both in a far higher sense than the man who seemed to +possess those qualities in excess. Thus in Turner's lifetime, when +people first looked at him, those who liked rainy, weather, said he was +not equal to Copley Fielding; but those who looked at Turner long +enough found that he could be much more wet than Copley Fielding, when +he chose. The people who liked force, said that "Turner was not strong +enough for them; he was effeminate; they liked De Wint,--nice strong +tone;--or Cox--great, greeny, dark masses of colour--solemn feeling of +the freshness and depth of nature;--they liked Cox--Turner was too hot +for them." Had they looked long enough they would have found that he +had far more force than De Wint, far more freshness than Cox when he +chose,--only united with other elements; and that he didn't choose to +be cool, if nature had appointed the weather to be hot. The people who +liked Prout said "Turner had not firmness of hand--he did not know +enough about architecture--he was not picturesque enough." Had they +looked at his architecture long, they would have found that it +contained subtle picturesquenesses, infinitely more picturesque than +anything of Prout's. People who liked Callcott said that "Turner was +not correct or pure enough--had no classical taste." Had they looked at +Turner long enough they would have found him as severe, when he chose, +as the greater Poussin;--Callcott, a mere vulgar imitator of other +men's high breeding. And so throughout with all thoroughly great men, +their strength is not seen at first, precisely because they unite, in +due place and measure, every great quality. + +Now the question is, whether, as students, we are to study only these +mightiest men, who unite all greatness, or whether we are to study the +works of inferior men, who present us with the greatness which we +particularly like? That question often comes before me when I see a +strong idiosyncrasy in a student, and he asks me what he should study. +Shall I send him to a true master, who does not present the quality in +a prominent way in which that student delights, or send him to a man +with whom he has direct sympathy? It is a hard question. For very +curious results have sometimes been brought out, especially in late +years, not only by students following their own bent, but by their +being withdrawn from teaching altogether. I have just named a very +great man in his own field--Prout. We all know his drawings, and love +them: they have a peculiar character which no other architectural +drawings ever possessed, and which no others can possess, because all +Prout's subjects are being knocked down or restored. (Prout did not +like restored buildings any more than I do.) There will never be any +more Prout drawings. Nor could he have been what he was, or expressed +with that mysteriously effective touch that peculiar delight in broken +and old buildings, unless he had been withdrawn from all high art +influence. You know that Prout was born of poor parents--that he was +educated down in Cornwall;--and that, for many years, all the art- +teaching he had was his own, or the fishermen's. Under the keels of the +fishing-boats, on the sands of our southern coasts, Prout learned all +that he needed to learn about art. Entirely by himself, he felt his way +to this particular style, and became the painter of pictures which I +think we should all regret to lose. It becomes a very difficult +question what that man would have been, had he been brought under some +entirely wholesome artistic influence, He had immense gifts of +composition. I do not know any man who had more power of invention than +Prout, or who had a sublimer instinct in his treatment of things; but +being entirely withdrawn from all artistical help, he blunders his way +to that short-coming representation, which, by the very reason of its +short-coming, has a certain charm we should all be sorry to lose. And +therefore I feel embarrassed when a student comes to me, in whom I see +a strong instinct of that kind: and cannot tell whether I ought to say +to him, "Give up all your studies of old boats, and keep away from the +sea-shore, and come up to the Royal Academy in London, and look at +nothing but Titian." It is a difficult thing to make up one's mind to +say that. However, I believe, on the whole, we may wisely leave such +matters in the hands of Providence; that if we have the power of +teaching the right to anybody, we should teach them the right; if we +have the power of showing them the best thing, we should show them the +best thing; there will always, I fear, be enough want of teaching, and +enough bad teaching, to bring out very curious erratical results if we +want them. So, if we are to teach at all, let us teach the right thing, +and ever the right thing. There are many attractive qualities +inconsistent with rightness;--do not let us teach them,--let us be +content to waive them. There are attractive qualities in Burns, and +attractive qualities in Dickens, which neither of those writers would +have possessed if the one had been educated, and the other had been +studying higher nature than that of cockney London; but those +attractive qualities are not such as we should seek in a school of +literature. If we want to teach young men a good manner of writing, we +should teach it from Shakspeare,--not from Burns; from Walter Scott,-- +and not from Dickens. And I believe that our schools of painting are at +present inefficient in their action, because they have not fixed on +this high principle what are the painters to whom to point; nor boldly +resolved to point to the best, if determinable. It is becoming a matter +of stern necessity that they should give a simple direction to the +attention of the student, and that they should say, "This is the mark +you are to aim at; and you are not to go about to the print-shops, and +peep in, to see how this engraver does that, and the other engraver +does the other, and how a nice bit of character has been caught by a +new man, and why this odd picture has caught the popular attention. You +are to have nothing to do with all that; you are not to mind about +popular attention just now; but here is a thing which is eternally +right and good: you are to look at that, and see if you cannot do +something eternally right and good too." + +But suppose you accept this principle: and resolve to look to some +great man, Titian, or Turner, or whomsoever it may be, as the model of +perfection in art;--then the question is, since this great man pursued +his art in Venice, or in the fields of England, under totally different +conditions from those possible to us now--how are you to make your +study of him effective here in Manchester? how bring it down into +patterns, and all that you are called upon as operatives to produce? +how make it the means of your livelihood, and associate inferior +branches of art with this great art? That may become a serious doubt to +you. You may think there is some other way of producing clever, and +pretty, and saleable patterns than going to look at Titian, or any +other great man. And that brings me to the question, perhaps the most +vexed question of all amongst us just now, between conventional and +perfect art. You know that among architects and artists there are, and +have been almost always, since art became a subject of much discussion, +two parties, one maintaining that nature should be always altered and +modified, and that the artist is greater than nature; they do not +maintain, indeed, in words, but they maintain in idea, that the artist +is greater than the Divine Maker of these things, and can improve them; +while the other party say that he cannot improve nature, and that +nature on the whole should improve him. That is the real meaning of the +two parties, the essence of them; the practical result of their several +theories being that the Idealists are always producing more or less +formal conditions of art, and the Realists striving to produce in all +their art either some image of nature, or record of nature; these, +observe, being quite different things, the image being a resemblance, +and the record, something which will give information about nature, but +not necessarily imitate it. + +[Footnote: The portion of the lecture here omitted was a recapitulation +of that part of the previous one which opposed conventional art to +natural art.] + + * * * * * + +You may separate these two groups of artists more distinctly in your +mind as those who seek for the pleasure of art, in the relations of its +colours and lines, without caring to convey any truth with it; and +those who seek for the truth first, and then go down from the truth to +the pleasure of colour and line. Marking those two bodies distinctly as +separate, and thinking over them, you may come to some rather notable +conclusions respecting the mental dispositions which are involved in +each mode of study. You will find that large masses of the art of the +world fall definitely under one or the other of these heads. Observe, +pleasure first and truth afterwards, (or not at all,) as with the +Arabians and Indians; or, truth first and pleasure afterwards, as with +Angelico and all other great European painters. You will find that the +art whose end is pleasure only is pre-eminently the gift of cruel and +savage nations, cruel in temper, savage in habits and conception; but +that the art which is especially dedicated to natural fact always +indicates a peculiar gentleness and tenderness of mind, and that all +great and successful work of that kind will assuredly be the production +of thoughtful, sensitive, earnest, kind men, large in their views of +life, and full of various intellectual power. And farther, when you +examine the men in whom the gifts of art are variously mingled, or +universally mingled, you will discern that the ornamental, or +pleasurable power, though it may be possessed by good men, is not in +itself an indication of their goodness, but is rather, unless balanced +by other faculties, indicative of violence of temper, inclining to +cruelty and to irreligion. On the other hand, so sure as you find any +man endowed with a keen and separate faculty of representing natural +fact, so surely you will find that man gentle and upright, full of +nobleness and breadth of thought. I will give you two instances, the +first peculiarly English, and another peculiarly interesting because it +occurs among a nation not generally very kind or gentle. + +I am inclined to think that, considering all the disadvantages of +circumstances and education under which his genius was developed, there +was perhaps hardly ever born a man with a more intense and innate gift +of insight into nature than our own Sir Joshua Reynolds. Considered as +a painter of individuality in the human form and mind, I think him, +even as it is, the prince of portrait painters. Titian paints nobler +pictures, and Vandyke had nobler subjects, but neither of them entered +so subtly as Sir Joshua did into the minor varieties of human heart and +temper; arid when you consider that, with a frightful conventionality +of social habitude all around him, he yet conceived the simplest types +of all feminine and childish loveliness;--that in a northern climate, +and with gray, and white, and black, as the principal colours around +him, he yet became a colourist who can be crushed by none, even of the +Venetians;--and that with Dutch painting and Dresden china for the +prevailing types of art in the saloons of his day, he threw himself at +once at the feet of the great masters of Italy, and arose from their +feet to share their throne--I know not that in the whole history of art +you can produce another instance of so strong, so unaided, so unerring +an instinct for all that was true, pure, and noble. + +Now, do you recollect the evidence respecting the character of this +man,--the two points of bright peculiar evidence given by the sayings +of the two greatest literary men of his day, Johnson and Goldsmith? +Johnson, who, as you know, was always Reynolds' attached friend, had +but one complaint to make against him, that he hated nobody:-- +"Reynolds," he said, "you hate no one living; I like a good hater!" +Still more significant is the little touch in Goldsmith's +"Retaliation." You recollect how in that poem he describes the various +persons who met at one of their dinners at St. James's Coffee-house, +each person being described under the name of some appropriate dish. +You will often hear the concluding lines about Reynolds Quoted-- + + "He shifted his trumpet," &c;-- + +less often, or at least less attentively, the preceding ones, far more +important-- + + "Still born to improve us in every part-- + His pencil our faces, his _manners our heart;_" + +and never, the most characteristic touch of all, near the beginning:-- + + "Our dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; + Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains. + To make out the dinner, full certain I am, + That Rich is anchovy, and Reynolds is _lamb_." + +The other painter whom I would give you as an instance of this +gentleness is a man of another nation, on the whole I suppose one of +the most cruel civilized nations in the world--the Spaniards. They +produced but one great painter, only one; but he among the very +greatest of painters, Velasquez. You would not suppose, from looking at +Velasquez' portraits generally, that he was an especially kind or good +man; you perceive a peculiar sternness about them; for they were as +true as steel, and the persons whom he had to paint being not generally +kind or good people, they were stern in expression, and Velasquez gave +the sternness; but he had precisely the same intense perception of +truth, the same marvellous instinct for the rendering of all natural +soul and all natural form that our Reynolds had. Let me, then, read you +his character as it is given by Mr. Stirling, of Kier:-- + +"Certain charges, of what nature we are not informed, brought against +him after his death, made it necessary for his executor, Fuensalida, to +refute them at a private audience granted to him by the king for that +purpose. After listening to the defence of his friend, Philip +immediately made answer: 'I can believe all you say of the excellent +disposition of Diego Velasquez.' Having lived for half his life in +courts, he was yet capable both of gratitude and generosity, and in the +misfortunes, he could remember the early kindness of Olivares. The +friend of the exile of Loeches, it is just to believe that he was also +the friend of the all-powerful favourite at Buenretiro. No mean +jealousy ever influenced his conduct to his brother artists; he could +afford not only to acknowledge the merits, but to forgive the malice, +of his rivals. His character was of that _rare and happy kind, in +which high intellectual power is combined with indomitable strength of +will, and a winning sweetness of temper_, and which seldom fails to +raise the possessor above his fellow-men, making his life a + + 'laurelled victory, and smooth success + Be strewed before his feet.'" + +I am sometimes accused of trying to make art too moral; yet, observe, I +do not say in the least that in order to be a good painter you must be +a good man; but I do say that in order to be a good natural painter +there must be strong elements of good in the mind, however warped by +other parts of the character. There are hundreds of other gifts of +painting which are not at all involved with moral conditions, but this +one, the perception of nature, is never given but under certain moral +conditions. Therefore, now you have it in your choice; here are your +two paths for you: it is required of you to produce conventional +ornament, and you may approach the task as the Hindoo does, and as the +Arab did,--without nature at all, with the chance of approximating your +disposition somewhat to that of the Hindoos and Arabs; or as Sir Joshua +and Velasquez did, with, not the chance, but the certainty, of +approximating your disposition, according to the sincerity of your +effort--to the disposition of those great and good men. + +And do you suppose you will lose anything by approaching your +conventional art from this higher side? Not so. I called, with +deliberate measurement of my expression, long ago, the decoration of +the Alhambra "detestable," not merely because indicative of base +conditions of moral being, but because merely as decorative work, +however captivating in some respects, it is wholly wanting in the real, +deep, and intense qualities of ornamental art. Noble conventional +decoration belongs only to three periods. First, there is the +conventional decoration of the Greeks, used in subordination to their +sculpture. There are then the noble conventional decoration of the +early Gothic schools, and the noble conventional arabesque of the great +Italian schools. All these were reached from above, all reached by +stooping from a knowledge of the human form. Depend upon it you will +find, as you look more and more into the matter, that good subordinate +ornament has ever been rooted in a higher knowledge; and if you are +again to produce anything that is noble, you must have the higher +knowledge first, and descend to all lower service; condescend as much +as you like,--condescension never does any man any harm,--but get your +noble standing first. So, then, without any scruple, whatever branch of +art you may be inclined as a student here to follow,--whatever you are +to make your bread by, I say, so far as you have time and power, make +yourself first a noble and accomplished artist; understand at least +what noble and accomplished art is, and then you will be able to apply +your knowledge to all service whatsoever. + +I am now going to ask your permission to name the masters whom I think +it would be well if we could agree, in our Schools of Art in England, +to consider our leaders. The first and chief I will not myself presume +to name; he shall be distinguished for you by the authority of those +two great painters of whom we have just been speaking--Reynolds and +Velasquez. You may remember that in your Manchester Art Treasures +Exhibition the most impressive things were the works of those two men-- +nothing told upon the eye so much; no other pictures retained it with +such a persistent power. Now, I have the testimony, first of Reynolds +to Velasquez, and then of Velasquez to the man whom I want you to take +as the master of all your English schools. The testimony of Reynolds to +Velasquez is very striking. I take it from some fragments which have +just been published by Mr. William Cotton--precious fragments--of +Reynolds' diaries, which I chanced upon luckily as I was coming down +here: for I was going to take Velasquez' testimony alone, and then fell +upon this testimony of Reynolds to Velasquez, written most fortunately +in Reynolds' own hand-you may see the manuscript. "What _we_ are +all," said Reynolds, "attempting to do with great labor, Velasquez does +at once." Just think what is implied when a man of the enormous power +and facility that Reynolds had, says he was "trying to do with great +labor" what Velasquez "did at once." + +Having thus Reynolds' testimony to Velasquez, I will take Velasquez' +testimony to somebody else. You know that Velasquez was sent by Philip +of Spain to Italy, to buy pictures for him. He went all over Italy, saw +the living artists there, and all their best pictures when freshly +painted, so that he had every opportunity of judging; and never was a +man so capable of judging. He went to Rome and ordered various works of +living artists; and while there, he was one day asked by Salvator Rosa +what he thought of Raphael. His reply, and the ensuing conversation, +are thus reported by Boschini, in curious Italian verse, which, thus +translated by Dr. Donaldson, is quoted in Mr. Stirling's Life of +Velasquez:-- + + "The master" [Velasquez] "stiffly bowed his figure tall + And said, 'For Rafael, to speak the truth-- + I always was plain-spoken from my youth-- + I cannot say I like his works at all.' + + "'Well,' said the other" [Salvator], 'if you can run down + So great a man, I really cannot see + What you can find to like in Italy; + To him we all agree to give the crown.' + + "Diego answered thus: 'I saw in Venice + The true test of the good and beautiful; + First in my judgment, ever stands that school, + And Titian first of all Italian men is.'" + + "_Tizian ze quel die porta la bandiera_" + +Learn that line by heart and act, at all events for some time to come, +upon Velasquez' opinion in that matter. Titian is much the safest +master for you. Raphael's power, such as it characters in his mind; it +is "Raphaelesque," properly so called; but Titian's power is simply the +power of doing right. Whatever came before Titian, he did wholly as it +_ought_ to be done. Do not suppose that now in recommending Titian +to you so strongly, and speaking of nobody else to-night, I am +retreating in anywise from what some of you may perhaps recollect in my +works, the enthusiasm with which I have always spoken of another +Venetian painter. There are three Venetians who are never separated in +my mind--Titian, Veronese, and Tintoret. They all have their own +unequalled gifts, and Tintoret especially has imagination and depth of +soul which I think renders him indisputably the greatest man; but, +equally indisputably, Titian is the greatest painter; and therefore the +greatest painter who ever lived. You may be led wrong by Tintoret +[Footnote: See Appendix I.--"Right and Wrong."] in many respects, wrong +by Raphael in more; all that you learn from Titian will be right. Then, +with Titian, take Leonardo, Rembrandt, and Albert Dürer. I name those +three masters for this reason: Leonardo has powers of subtle drawing +which are peculiarly applicable in many ways to the drawing of fine +ornament, and are very useful for all students. Rembrandt and Dürer are +the only men whose actual work of hand you can have to look at; you can +have Rembrandt's etchings, or Dürer's engravings actually hung in your +schools; and it is a main point for the student to see the real thing, +and avoid judging of masters at second-hand. As, however, in obeying +this principle, you cannot often have opportunities of studying +Venetian painting, it is desirable that you should have a useful +standard of colour, and I think it is possible for you to obtain this. +I cannot, indeed, without entering upon ground which might involve the +hurting the feelings of living artists, state exactly what I believe to +be the relative position of various painters in England at present with +respect to power of colour. But I may say this, that in the peculiar +gifts of colour which will be useful to you as students, there are only +one or two of the pre-Raphaelites, and William Hunt, of the old Water +Colour Society, who would be safe guides for you: and as quite a safe +guide, there is nobody but William Hunt, because the pre-Raphaelites +are all more or less affected by enthusiasm and by various morbid +conditions of intellect and temper; but old William Hunt--I am sorry to +say "old," but I say it in a loving way, for every year that has added +to his life has added also to his skill--William Hunt is as right as +the Venetians, as far as he goes, and what is more, nearly as +inimitable as they. And I think if we manage to put in the principal +schools of England a little bit of Hunt's work, and make that somewhat +of a standard of colour, that we can apply his principles of colouring +to subjects of all kinds. Until you have had a work of his long near +you; nay, unless you have been labouring at it, and trying to copy it, +you do not know the thoroughly grand qualities that are concentrated in +it. Simplicity, and intensity, both of the highest character;-- +simplicity of aim, and intensity of power and success, are involved in +that man's unpretending labour. + +Finally, you cannot believe that I would omit my own favourite, Turner. +I fear from the very number of his works left to the nation, that there +is a disposition now rising to look upon his vast bequest with some +contempt. I beg of you, if in nothing else, to believe me in this, that +you cannot further the art of England in any way more distinctly than +by giving attention to every fragment that has been left by that man. +The time will come when his full power and right place will be +acknowledged; that time will not be for many a day yet: nevertheless, +be assured--as far as you are inclined to give the least faith to +anything I may say to you, be assured--that you can act for the good of +art in England in no better way than by using whatever influence any of +you have in any direction to urge the reverent study and yet more +reverent preservation of the works of Turner. I do not say "the +exhibition" of his works, for we are not altogether ripe for it: they +are still too far above us; uniting, as I was telling you, too many +qualities for us yet to feel fully their range and their influence;-- +but let us only try to keep them safe from harm, and show thoroughly +and conveniently what we show of them at all, and day by day their +greatness will dawn upon us more and more, and be the root of a school +of art in England, which I do not doubt may be as bright, as just, and +as refined as even that of Venice herself. The dominion of the sea +seems to have been associated, in past time, with dominion in the arts +also: Athens had them together; Venice had them together; but by so +much as our authority over the ocean is wider than theirs over the +Ęgean or Adriatic, let us strive to make our art more widely beneficent +than theirs, though it cannot be more exalted; so working out the +fulfilment, in their wakening as well as their warning sense, of those +great words of the aged Tintoret: + + "Sempre si fa il mare maggiore." + + + + +LECTURE III. + +MODERN MANUFACTURE AND DESIGN. + +_A Lecture delivered at Bradford, March, 1859_. + + +It is with a deep sense of necessity for your indulgence that I venture +to address you to-night, or that I venture at any time to address the +pupils of schools of design intended for the advancement of taste in +special branches of manufacture. No person is able to give useful and +definite help towards such special applications of art, unless he is +entirely familiar with the conditions of labour and natures of material +involved in the work; and indefinite help is little better than no help +at all. Nay, the few remarks which I propose to lay before you this +evening will, I fear, be rather suggestive of difficulties than helpful +in conquering them: nevertheless, it may not be altogether +unserviceable to define clearly for you (and this, at least, I am able +to do) one or two of the more stern general obstacles which stand at +present in the way of our success in design; and to warn you against +exertion of effort in any vain or wasteful way, till these main +obstacles are removed. + +The first of these is our not understanding the scope and dignity of +Decorative design. With all our talk about it, the very meaning of the +words "Decorative art" remains confused and undecided. I want, if +possible, to settle this question for you to-night, and to show you +that the principles on which you must work are likely to be false, in +proportion as they are narrow; true, only as they are founded on a +perception of the connection of all branches of art with each other. + +Observe, then, first--the only essential distinction between Decorative +and other art is the being fitted for a fixed place; and in that place, +related, either in subordination or command, to the effect of other +pieces of art. And all the greatest art which the world has produced is +thus fitted for a place, and subordinated to a purpose. There is no +existing highest-order art but is decorative. The best sculpture yet +produced has been the decoration of a temple front--the best painting, +the decoration of a room. Raphael's best doing is merely the wall- +colouring of a suite of apartments in the Vatican, and his cartoons +were made for tapestries. Correggio's best doing is the decoration of +two small church cupolas at Parma; Michael Angelo's of a ceiling in the +Pope's private chapel; Tintoret's, of a ceiling and side wall belonging +to a charitable society at Venice; while Titian and Veronese threw out +their noblest thoughts, not even on the inside, but on the outside of +the common brick and plaster walls of Venice. + +Get rid, then, at once of any idea of Decorative art being a degraded +or a separate kind of art. Its nature or essence is simply its being +fitted for a definite place; and, in that place, forming part of a +great and harmonious whole, in companionship with other art; and so far +from this being a degradation to it--so far from Decorative art being +inferior to other art because it is fixed to a spot--on the whole it +may be considered as rather a piece of degradation that it should be +portable. Portable art--independent of all place--is for the most part +ignoble art. Your little Dutch landscape, which you put over your +sideboard to-day, and between the windows tomorrow, is a far more +contemptible piece of work than the extents of field and forest with +which Benozzo has made green and beautiful the once melancholy arcade +of the Campo Santo at Pisa; and the wild boar of silver which you use +for a seal, or lock into a velvet case, is little likely to be so noble +a beast as the bronze boar who foams forth the fountain from under his +tusks in the market-place of Florence. It is, indeed, possible that the +portable picture or image may be first-rate of its kind, but it is not +first-rate because it is portable; nor are Titian's frescoes less than +first-rate because they are fixed; nay, very frequently the highest +compliment you can pay to a cabinet picture is to say--"It is as grand +as a fresco." + +Keeping, then, this fact fixed in our minds,--that all art _may_ +be decorative, and that the greatest art yet produced has been +decorative,--we may proceed to distinguish the orders and dignities of +decorative art, thus:-- + +I. The first order of it is that which is meant for places where it +cannot be disturbed or injured, and where it can be perfectly seen; and +then the main parts of it should be, and have always been made, by the +great masters, as perfect, and as full of nature as possible. + +You will every day hear it absurdly said that room decoration should be +by flat patterns--by dead colours--by conventional monotonies, and I +know not what. Now, just be assured of this--nobody ever yet used +conventional art to decorate with, when he could do anything better, +and knew that what he did would be safe. Nay, a great painter will +always give you the natural art, safe or not. Correggio gets a +commission to paint a room on the ground floor of a palace at Parma: +any of our people--bred on our fine modern principles--would have +covered it with a diaper, or with stripes or flourishes, or mosaic +patterns. Not so Correggio: he paints a thick trellis of vine-leaves, +with oval openings, and lovely children leaping through them into the +room; and lovely children, depend upon it, are rather more desirable +decorations than diaper, if you can do them--but they are not quite so +easily done. In like manner Tintoret has to paint the whole end of the +Council Hall at Venice. An orthodox decorator would have set himself to +make the wall look like a wall--Tintoret thinks it would be rather +better, if he can manage it, to make it look a little like Paradise;-- +stretches his canvas right over the wall, and his clouds right over his +canvas; brings the light through his clouds--all blue and clear--zodiac +beyond zodiac; rolls away the vaporous flood from under the feet of +saints, leaving them at last in infinitudes of light--unorthodox in the +last degree, but, on the whole, pleasant. + +And so in all other cases whatever, the greatest decorative art is +wholly unconventional--downright, pure, good painting and sculpture, +but always fitted for its place; and subordinated to the purpose it has +to serve in that place. + +II. But if art is to be placed where it is liable to injury--to wear +and tear; or to alteration of its form; as, for instance, on domestic +utensils, and armour, and weapons, and dress; in which either the +ornament will be worn out by the usage of the thing, or will be cast +into altered shape by the play of its folds; then it is wrong to put +beautiful and perfect art to such uses, and you want forms of inferior +art, such as will be by their simplicity less liable to injury; or, by +reason of their complexity and continuousness, may show to advantage, +however distorted by the folds they are cast into. + +And thus arise the various forms of inferior decorative art, respecting +which the general law is, that the lower the place and office of the +thing, the less of natural or perfect form you should have in it; a +zigzag or a chequer is thus a better, because a more consistent +ornament for a cup or platter than a landscape or portrait is: hence +the general definition of the true forms of conventional ornament is, +that they consist in the bestowal of as much beauty on the object as +shall be consistent with its Material, its Place, and its Office. + +Let us consider these three modes of consistency a little. + +(A.) Conventionalism by cause of inefficiency of material. + +If, for instance, we are required to represent a human figure with +stone only, we cannot represent its colour; we reduce its colour to +whiteness. That is not elevating the human body, but degrading it; only +it would be a much greater degradation to give its colour falsely. +Diminish beauty as much as you will, but do not misrepresent it. So +again, when we are sculpturing a face, we can't carve its eyelashes. +The face is none the better for wanting its eyelashes--it is injured by +the want; but would be much more injured by a clumsy representation of +them. + +Neither can we carve the hair. We must be content with the +conventionalism of vile solid knots and lumps of marble, instead of the +golden cloud that encompasses the fair human face with its waving +mystery. The lumps of marble are not an elevated representation of +hair--they are a degraded one; yet better than any attempt to imitate +hair with the incapable material. + +In all cases in which such imitation is attempted, instant degradation +to a still lower level is the result. For the effort to imitate shows +that the workman has only a base and poor conception of the beauty of +the reality--else he would know his task to be hopeless, and give it up +at once; so that all endeavours to avoid conventionalism, when the +material demands it, result from insensibility to truth, and are among +the worst forms of vulgarity. Hence, in the greatest Greek statues, the +hair is very slightly indicated--not because the sculptor disdained +hair, but because he knew what it was too well to touch it insolently. +I do not doubt but that the Greek painters drew hair exactly as Titian +does. Modern attempts to produce finished pictures on glass result from +the same base vulgarism. No man who knows what painting means, can +endure a painted glass window which emulates painter's work. But he +rejoices in a glowing mosaic of broken colour: for that is what the +glass has the special gift and right of producing. [Footnote: See +Appendix II., Sir Joshua Reynolds's disappointment.] + +(B.) Conventionalism by cause of inferiority of place. + +When work is to be seen at a great distance, or in dark places, or in +some other imperfect way, it constantly becomes necessary to treat it +coarsely or severely, in order to make it effective. The statues on +cathedral fronts, in good times of design, are variously treated +according to their distances: no fine execution is put into the +features of the Madonna who rules the group of figures above the south +transept of Rouen at 150 feet above the ground; but in base modern +work, as Milan Cathedral, the sculpture is finished without any +reference to distance; and the merit of every statue is supposed to +consist in the visitor's being obliged to ascend three hundred steps +before he can see it. + +(C.) Conventionalism by cause of inferiority of office. + +When one piece of ornament is to be subordinated to another (as the +moulding is to the sculpture it encloses, or the fringe of a drapery to +the statue it veils), this inferior ornament needs to be degraded in +order to mark its lower office; and this is best done by refusing, more +or less, the introduction of natural form. The less of nature it +contains, the more degraded is the ornament, and the fitter for a +humble place; but, however far a great workman may go in refusing the +higher organisms of nature, he always takes care to retain the +magnificence of natural lines; that is to say, of the infinite curves, +such as I have analyzed in the fourth volume of "Modern Painters." His +copyists, fancying that they can follow him without nature, miss +precisely the essence of all the work; so that even the simplest piece +of Greek conventional ornament loses the whole of its value in any +modern imitation of it, the finer curves being always missed. Perhaps +one of the dullest and least justifiable mistakes which have yet been +made about my writing, is the supposition that I have attacked or +despised Greek work. I have attacked Palladian work, and modern +imitation of Greek work. Of Greek work itself I have never spoken but +with a reverence quite infinite: I name Phidias always in exactly the +same tone with which I speak of Michael Angelo, Titian, and Dante. My +first statement of this faith, now thirteen years ago, was surely clear +enough. "We shall see by this light three colossal images standing up +side by side, looming in their great rest of spirituality above the +whole world horizon. Phidias, Michael Angelo, and Dante,--from these we +may go down step by step among the mighty men of every age, securely +and certainly observant of diminished lustre in every appearance of +restlessness and effort, until the last trace of inspiration vanishes +in the tottering affectation or tortured insanities of modern times." +("Modern Painters," vol. ii., p. 253.) This was surely plain speaking +enough, and from that day to this my effort has been not less +continually to make the heart of Greek work known than the heart of +Gothic: namely, the nobleness of conception of form derived from +perpetual study of the figure; and my complaint of the modern architect +has been not that he followed the Greeks, but that he denied the first +laws of life in theirs as in all other art. + +The fact is, that all good subordinate forms of ornamentation ever yet +existent in the world have been invented, and others as beautiful can +only be invented, by men primarily exercised in drawing or carving the +human figure. I will not repeat here what I have already twice insisted +upon, to the students of London and Manchester, respecting the +degradation of temper and intellect which follows the pursuit of art +without reference to natural form, as among the Asiatics: here, I will +only trespass on your patience so far as to mark the inseparable +connection between figure-drawing and good ornamental work, in the +great European schools, and all that are connected with them. + +Tell me, then, first of all, what ornamental work is usually put before +our students as the type of decorative perfection? Raphael's +arabesques; are they not? Well, Raphael knew a little about the figure, +I suppose, before he drew them. I do not say that I like those +arabesques; but there are certain qualities in them which are +inimitable by modern designers; and those qualities are just the fruit +of the master's figure study. What is given the student as next to +Raphael's work? Cinquecento ornament generally. Well, cinquecento +generally, with its birds, and cherubs, and wreathed foliage, and +clustered fruit, was the amusement of men who habitually and easily +carved the figure, or painted it. All the truly fine specimens of it +have figures or animals as main parts of the design. + +"Nay, but," some anciently or medięvally minded person will exclaim, +"we don't want to study cinquecento. We want severer, purer +conventionalism." What will you have? Egyptian ornament? Why, the whole +mass of it is made up of multitudinous human figures in every kind of +action--and magnificent action; their kings drawing their bows in their +chariots, their sheaves of arrows rattling at their shoulders; the +slain falling under them as before a pestilence; their captors driven +before them in astonied troops; and do you expect to imitate Egyptian +ornament without knowing how to draw the human figure? Nay, but you +will take Christian ornament--purest mediaeval Christian--thirteenth +century! Yes: and do you suppose you will find the Christian less +human? The least natural and most purely conventional ornament of the +Gothic schools is that of their painted glass; and do you suppose +painted glass, in the fine times, was ever wrought without figures? We +have got into the way, among our other modern wretchednesses, of trying +to make windows of leaf diapers, and of strips of twisted red and +yellow bands, looking like the patterns of currant jelly on the top of +Christmas cakes; but every casement of old glass contained a saint's +history. The windows of Bourges, Chartres, or Rouen have ten, fifteen, +or twenty medallions in each, and each medallion contains two figures +at least, often six or seven, representing every event of interest in +the history of the saint whose life is in question. Nay, but, you say +those figures are rude and quaint, and ought not to be imitated. Why, +so is the leafage rude and quaint, yet you imitate that. The coloured +border pattern of geranium or ivy leaf is not one whit better drawn, or +more like geraniums and ivy, than the figures are like figures; but you +call the geranium leaf idealized--why don't you call the figures so? +The fact is, neither are idealized, but both are conventionalized on +the same principles, and in the same way; and if you want to learn how +to treat the leafage, the only way is to learn first how to treat the +figure. And you may soon test your powers in this respect. Those old +workmen were not afraid of the most familiar subjects. The windows of +Chartres were presented by the trades of the town, and at the bottom of +each window is a representation of the proceedings of the tradesmen at +the business which enabled them to pay for the window. There are smiths +at the forge, curriers at their hides, tanners looking into their pits, +mercers selling goods over the counter--all made into beautiful +medallions. Therefore, whenever you want to know whether you have got +any real power of composition or adaptation in ornament, don't be +content with sticking leaves together by the ends,--anybody can do +that; but try to conventionalize a butcher's or a greengrocer's, with +Saturday night customers buying cabbage and beef. That will tell you if +you can design or not. + +I can fancy your losing patience with me altogether just now. "We asked +this fellow down to tell our workmen how to make shawls, and he is only +trying to teach them how to caricature." But have a little patience +with me, and examine, after I have done, a little for yourselves into +the history of ornamental art, and you will discover why I do this. You +will discover, I repeat, that all great ornamental art whatever is +founded on the effort of the workman to draw the figure, and, in the +best schools, to draw all that he saw about him in living nature. The +best art of pottery is acknowledged to be that of Greece, and all the +power of design exhibited in it, down to the merest zigzag, arises +primarily from the workman having been forced to outline nymphs and +knights; from those helmed and draped figures he holds his power. Of +Egyptian ornament I have just spoken. You have everything given there +that the workman saw; people of his nation employed in hunting, +fighting, fishing, visiting, making love, building, cooking--everything +they did is drawn, magnificently or familiarly, as was needed. In +Byzantine ornament, saints, or animals which are types of various +spiritual power, are the main subjects; and from the church down to the +piece of enamelled metal, figure,--figure,--figure, always principal. +In Norman and Gothic work you have, with all their quiet saints, also +other much disquieted persons, hunting, feasting, fighting, and so on; +or whole hordes of animals racing after each other. In the Bayeux +tapestry, Queen Matilda gave, as well as she could,--in many respects +graphically enough,--the whole history of the conquest of England. +Thence, as you increase in power of art, you have more and more +finished figures, up to the solemn sculptures of Wells Cathedral, or +the cherubic enrichments of the Venetian Madonna dei Miracoli. +Therefore, I will tell you fearlessly, for I know it is true, you must +raise your workman up to life, or you will never get from him one line +of well-imagined conventionalism. We have at present no good ornamental +design. We can't have it yet, and we must be patient if we want to have +it. Do not hope to feel the effect of your schools at once, but raise +the men as high as you can, and then let them stoop as low as you need; +no great man ever minds stooping. Encourage the students, in sketching +accurately and continually from nature anything that comes in their +way--still life, flowers, animals; but, above all, figures; and so far +as you allow of any difference between an artist's training and theirs, +let it be, not in what they draw, but in the degree of conventionalism +you require in the sketch. + +For my own part, I should always endeavour to give thorough artistical +training first; but I am not certain (the experiment being yet untried) +what results may be obtained by a truly intelligent practice of +conventional drawing, such as that of the Egyptians, Greeks, or +thirteenth century French, which consists in the utmost possible +rendering of natural form by the fewest possible lines. The animal and +bird drawing of the Egyptians is, in their fine age, quite magnificent +under its conditions; magnificent in two ways--first, in keenest +perception of the main forms and facts in the creature; and, secondly, +in the grandeur of line by which their forms are abstracted and +insisted on, making every asp, ibis, and vulture a sublime spectre of +asp or ibis or vulture power. The way for students to get some of this +gift again (_some_ only, for I believe the fulness of the gift +itself to be connected with vital superstition, and with resulting +intensity of reverence; people were likely to know something about +hawks and ibises, when to kill one was to be irrevocably judged to +death) is never to pass a day without drawing some animal from the +life, allowing themselves the fewest possible lines and colours to do +it with, but resolving that whatever is characteristic of the animal +shall in some way or other be shown. [Footnote: Plate 75 in Vol. V. of +Wilkinson's "Ancient Egypt" will give the student an idea of how to set +to work.] I repeat, it cannot yet be judged what results might be +obtained by a nobly practised conventionalism of this kind; but, +however that may be, the first fact,--the necessity of animal and +figure drawing, is absolutely certain, and no person who shrinks from +it will ever become a great designer. + +One great good arises even from the first step in figure drawing, that +it gets the student quit at once of the notion of formal symmetry. If +you learn only to draw a leaf well, you are taught in some of our +schools to turn it the other way, opposite to itself; and the two +leaves set opposite ways are called "a design:" and thus it is supposed +possible to produce ornamentation, though you have no more brains than +a looking-glass or a kaleidoscope has. But if you once learn to draw +the human figure, you will find that knocking two men's heads together +does not necessarily constitute a good design; nay, that it makes a +very bad design, or no design at all; and you will see at once that to +arrange a group of two or more figures, you must, though perhaps it may +be desirable to balance, or oppose them, at the same time vary their +attitudes, and make one, not the reverse of the other, but the +companion of the other. + +I had a somewhat amusing discussion on this subject with a friend, only +the other day; and one of his retorts upon me was so neatly put, and +expresses so completely all that can either be said or shown on the +opposite side, that it is well worth while giving it you exactly in the +form it was sent to me. My friend had been maintaining that the essence +of ornament consisted in three things:--contrast, series, and symmetry. +I replied (by letter) that "none of them, nor all of them together, +would produce ornament. Here"--(making a ragged blot with the back of +my pen on the paper)--"you have contrast; but it isn't ornament: here, +1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,"--(writing the numerals)--"You have series; but it +isn't ornament: and here,"--(sketching a rough but symmetrical "stick- +figure" sketch of a human body at the side)--"you have symmetry; but it +isn't ornament." + +My friend replied:-- + +"Your materials were not ornament, because you did not apply them. I +send them to you back, made up into a choice sporting neckerchief:" + +[Illustration: Sketch of a square of cloth decorated with a diagonal +grid pattern of stick-figure human forms, with repeated and reflected +ink-blot shapes at the corners and the digits 1 through 6 arranged into +simple symmetrical shapes and repeated around the border.] + + Symmetrical figure Unit of diaper. + Contrast Corner ornaments. + Series Border ornaments. + +"Each figure is converted into a harmony by being revolved on its two +axes, the whole opposed in contrasting series." + +My answer was--or rather was to the effect (for I must expand it a +little, here)--that his words, "because you did not apply them," +contained the gist of the whole matter;--that the application of them, +or any other things, was precisely the essence of design; the non- +application, or wrong application, the negation of design: that his use +of the poor materials was in this case admirable; and that if he could +explain to me, in clear words, the principles on which he had so used +them, he would be doing a very great service to all students of art. + +"Tell me, therefore (I asked), these main points: + +"1. How did you determine the number of figures you would put into the +neckerchief? Had there been more, it would have been mean and +ineffective,--a pepper-and-salt sprinkling of figures. Had there been +fewer, it would have been monstrous. How did you fix the number? + +"2. How did you determine the breadth of the border and relative size +of the numerals? + +"3. Why are there two lines outside of the border, and one only inside? +Why are there no more lines? Why not three and two, or three and five? +Why lines at all to separate the barbarous figures; and why, if lines +at all, not double or treble instead of single? + +"4. Why did you put the double blots at the corners? Why not at the +angles of the chequers,--or in the middle of the border? + +"It is precisely your knowing why _not_ to do these things, and +why to do just what you have done, which constituted your power of +design; and like all the people I have ever known who had that power, +you are entirely unconscious of the essential laws by which you work, +and confuse other people by telling them that the design depends on +symmetry and series, when, in fact, it depends entirely on your own +sense and judgment." + +This was the substance of my last answer--to which (as I knew +beforehand would be the case) I got no reply; but it still remains to +be observed that with all the skill and taste (especially involving the +architect's great trust, harmony of proportion), which my friend could +bring to bear on the materials given him, the result is still only--a +sporting neckerchief--that is to say, the materials addressed, first, +to recklessness, in the shape of a mere blot; then to computativeness +in a series of figures; and then to absurdity and ignorance, in the +shape of an ill-drawn caricature--such materials, however treated, can +only work up into what will please reckless, computative, and vulgar +persons,--that is to say, into a sporting neckerchief. The difference +between this piece of ornamentation and Correggio's painting at Parma +lies simply and wholly in the additions (somewhat large ones), of truth +and of tenderness: in the drawing being lovely as well as symmetrical-- +and representative of realities as well as agreeably disposed. And +truth, tenderness, and inventive application or disposition are indeed +the roots of ornament--not contrast, nor symmetry. + +It ought yet farther to be observed, that _the nobler the materials, +the less their symmetry is endurable_. In the present case, the +sense of fitness and order, produced by the repetition of the figures, +neutralizes, in some degree, their reckless vulgarity; and is wholly, +therefore, beneficent to them. But draw the figures better, and their +repetition will become painful. You may harmlessly balance a mere +geometrical form, and oppose one quatrefoil or cusp by another exactly +like it. But put two Apollo Belvideres back to back, and you will not +think the symmetry improves them. _Whenever the materials of ornament +are noble, they must be various_; and repetition of parts is either +the sign of utterly bad, hopeless, and base work; or of the intended +degradation of the parts in which such repetition is allowed, in order +to foil others more noble. + +Such, then, are a few of the great principles, by the enforcement of +which you may hope to promote the success of the modern student of +design; but remember, none of these principles will be useful at all, +unless you understand them to be, in one profound and stern sense, +useless. [Footnote: I shall endeavour for the future to put my self- +contradictions in short sentences and direct terms, in order to save +sagacious persons the trouble of looking for them.] + +That is to say, unless you feel that neither you nor I, nor any one, +can, in the great ultimate sense, teach anybody how to make a good +design. + +If designing _could_ be taught, all the world would learn: as all +the world reads--or calculates. But designing is not to be spelled, nor +summed. My men continually come to me, in my drawing class in London, +thinking I am to teach them what is instantly to enable them to gain +their bread. "Please, sir, show us how to design." "Make designers of +us." And you, I doubt not, partly expect me to tell you to-night how to +make designers of your Bradford youths. Alas! I could as soon tell you +how to make or manufacture an ear of wheat, as to make a good artist of +any kind. I can analyze the wheat very learnedly for you--tell you +there is starch in it, and carbon, and silex. I can give you starch, +and charcoal, and flint; but you are as far from your ear of wheat as +you were before. All that can possibly be done for any one who wants +ears of wheat is to show them where to find grains of wheat, and how to +sow them, and then, with patience, in Heaven's time, the ears will +come--or will perhaps come--ground and weather permitting. So in this +matter of making artists--first you must find your artist in the grain; +then you must plant him; fence and weed the field about him; and with +patience, ground and weather permitting, you may get an artist out of +him--not otherwise. And what I have to speak to you about, tonight, is +mainly the ground and the weather, it being the first and quite most +material question in this matter, whether the ground and weather of +Bradford, or the ground and weather of England in general,--suit wheat. + +And observe in the outset, it is not so much what the present +circumstances of England are, as what we wish to make them, that we +have to consider. If you will tell me what you ultimately intend +Bradford to be, perhaps I can tell you what Bradford can ultimately +produce. But you must have your minds clearly made up, and be distinct +in telling me what you do want. At present I don't know what you are +aiming at, and possibly on consideration you may feel some doubt +whether you know yourselves. As matters stand, all over England, as +soon as one mill is at work, occupying two hundred hands, we try, by +means of it, to set another mill at work, occupying four hundred. That +is all simple and comprehensive enough--but what is it to come to? How +many mills do we want? or do we indeed want no end of mills? Let us +entirely understand each other on this point before we go any farther. +Last week, I drove from Rochdale to Bolton Abbey; quietly, in order to +see the country, and certainly it was well worth while. I never went +over a more interesting twenty miles than those between Rochdale and +Burnley. Naturally, the valley has been one of the most beautiful in +the Lancashire hills; one of the far away solitudes, full of old +shepherd ways of life. At this time there are not,--I speak +deliberately, and I believe quite literally,--there are not, I think, +more than a thousand yards of road to be traversed anywhere, without +passing a furnace or mill. + +Now, is that the kind of thing you want to come to everywhere? Because, +if it be, and you tell me so distinctly, I think I can make several +suggestions to-night, and could make more if you give me time, which +would materially advance your object. The extent of our operations at +present is more or less limited by the extent of coal and ironstone, +but we have not yet learned to make proper use of our clay. Over the +greater part of England, south of the manufacturing districts, there +are magnificent beds of various kinds of useful clay; and I believe +that it would not be difficult to point out modes of employing it which +might enable us to turn nearly the whole of the south of England into a +brickfield, as we have already turned nearly the whole of the north +into a coal-pit. I say "nearly" the whole, because, as you are +doubtless aware, there are considerable districts in the south composed +of chalk renowned up to the present time for their downs and mutton. +But, I think, by examining carefully into the conceivable uses of +chalk, we might discover a quite feasible probability of turning all +the chalk districts into a limekiln, as we turn the clay districts into +a brickfield. There would then remain nothing but the mountain +districts to be dealt with; but, as we have not yet ascertained all the +uses of clay and chalk, still less have we ascertained those of stone; +and I think, by draining the useless inlets of the Cumberland, Welsh, +and Scotch lakes, and turning them, with their rivers, into navigable +reservoirs and canals, there would be no difficulty in working the +whole of our mountain districts as a gigantic quarry of slate and +granite, from which all the rest of the world might be supplied with +roofing and building stone. + +Is this, then, what you want? You are going straight at it at present; +and I have only to ask under what limitations I am to conceive or +describe your final success? Or shall there be no limitations? There +are none to your powers; every day puts new machinery at your disposal, +and increases, with your capital, the vastness of your undertakings. +The changes in the state of this country are now so rapid, that it +would be wholly absurd to endeavour to lay down laws of art education +for it under its present aspect and circumstances; and therefore I must +necessarily ask, how much of it do you seriously intend within the next +fifty years to be coal-pit, brickfield, or quarry? For the sake of +distinctness of conclusion, I will suppose your success absolute: that +from shore to shore the whole of the island is to be set as thick with +chimneys as the masts stand in the docks of Liverpool: and there shall +be no meadows in it; no trees; no gardens; only a little corn grown +upon the housetops, reaped and threshed by steam: that you do not leave +even room for roads, but travel either over the roofs of your mills, on +viaducts; or under their floors, in tunnels: that, the smoke having +rendered the light of the sun unserviceable, you work always by the +light of your own gas: that no acre of English ground shall be without +its shaft and its engine; and therefore, no spot of English ground +left, on which it shall be possible to stand, without a definite and +calculable chance of being blown off it, at any moment, into small +pieces. + +Under these circumstances, (if this is to be the future of England,) no +designing or any other development of beautiful art will be possible. +Do not vex your minds, nor waste your money with any thought or effort +in the matter. Beautiful art can only be produced by people who have +beautiful things about them, and leisure to look at them; and unless +you provide some elements of beauty for your workmen to be surrounded +by, you will find that no elements of beauty can be invented by them. + +I was struck forcibly by the bearing of this great fact upon our modern +efforts at ornamentation in an afternoon walk, last week, in the +suburbs of one of our large manufacturing towns. I was thinking of the +difference in the effect upon the designer's mind, between the scene +which I then came upon, and the scene which would have presented itself +to the eyes of any designer of the middle ages, when he left his +workshop. Just outside the town I came upon an old English cottage, or +mansion, I hardly know which to call it, set close under the hill, and +beside the river, perhaps built somewhere in the Charles's time, with +mullioned windows and a low arched porch; round which, in the little +triangular garden, one can imagine the family as they used to sit in +old summer times, the ripple of the river heard faintly through the +sweetbrier hedge, and the sheep on the far-off wolds shining in the +evening sunlight. There, uninhabited for many and many a year, it had +been left in unregarded havoc of ruin; the garden-gate still swung +loose to its latch; the garden, blighted utterly into a field of ashes, +not even a weed taking root there; the roof torn into shapeless rents; +the shutters hanging about the windows in rags of rotten wood; before +its gate, the stream which had gladdened it now soaking slowly by, +black as ebony, and thick with curdling scum; the bank above it trodden +into unctuous, sooty slime: far in front of it, between it and the old +hills, the furnaces of the city foaming forth perpetual plague of +sulphurous darkness; the volumes of their storm clouds coiling low over +a waste of grassless fields, fenced from each other, not by hedges, but +by slabs of square stone, like gravestones, riveted together with iron. + +That was your scene for the designer's contemplation in his afternoon +walk at Rochdale. Now fancy what was the scene which presented itself, +in his afternoon walk, to a designer of the Gothic school of Pisa--Nino +Pisano, or any of his men. + +On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter palaces, +arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and with +serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding troops of +knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse +and man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light--the purple, +and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and +clashing mail, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. Opening on each +side from the river were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long +successions of white pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of +fountains through buds of pomegranate and orange: and still along the +garden-paths, and under and through the crimson of the pomegranate +shadows, moving slowly, groups of the fairest women that Italy ever +saw--fairest, because purest and thoughtfullest; trained in all high +knowledge, as in all courteous art--in dance, in song, in sweet wit, in +lofty learning, in loftier courage, in loftiest love--able alike to +cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of men. Above all this scenery of +perfect human life, rose dome and bell-tower, burning with white +alabaster and gold; beyond dome and bell-tower the slopes of mighty +hills, hoary with olive; far in the north, above a purple sea of peaks +of solemn Apennine, the clear, sharp-cloven Carrara mountains sent up +their steadfast flames of marble summit into amber sky; the great sea +itself, scorching with expanse of light, stretching from their feet to +the Gorgonian isles; and over all these, ever present, near or far-- +seen through the leaves of vine, or imaged with all its march of clouds +in the Arno's stream, or set with its depth of blue close against the +golden hair and burning cheek of lady and knight,--that untroubled and +sacred sky, which was to all men, in those days of innocent faith, +indeed the unquestioned abode of spirits, as the earth was of men; and +which opened straight through its gates of cloud and veils of dew into +the awfulness of the eternal world;--a heaven in which every cloud that +passed was literally the chariot of an angel, and every ray of its +Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God. + +What think you of that for a school of design? + +I do not bring this contrast before you as a ground of hopelessness in +our task; neither do I look for any possible renovation of the Republic +of Pisa, at Bradford, in the nineteenth century; but I put it before +you in order that you may be aware precisely of the kind of difficulty +you have to meet, and may then consider with yourselves how far you can +meet it. To men surrounded by the depressing and monotonous +circumstances of English manufacturing life, depend upon it, design is +simply impossible. This is the most distinct of all the experiences I +have had in dealing with the modern workman. He is intelligent and +ingenious in the highest degree--subtle in touch and keen in sight: but +he is, generally speaking, wholly destitute of designing power. And if +you want to give him the power, you must give him the materials, and +put him in the circumstances for it. Design is not the offspring of +idle fancy: it is the studied result of accumulative observation and +delightful habit. Without observation and experience, no design-- +without peace and pleasurableness in occupation, no design--and all the +lecturings, and teachings, and prizes, and principles of art, in the +world, are of no use, so long as you don't surround your men with happy +influences and beautiful things. It is impossible for them to have +right ideas about colour, unless they see the lovely colours of nature +unspoiled; impossible for them to supply beautiful incident and action +in their ornament, unless they see beautiful incident and action in the +world about them. Inform their minds, refine their habits, and you form +and refine their designs; but keep them illiterate, uncomfortable, and +in the midst of unbeautiful things, and whatever they do will still be +spurious, vulgar, and valueless. + +I repeat, that I do not ask you nor wish you to build a new Pisa for +them. We don't want either the life or the decorations of the +thirteenth century back again; and the circumstances with which you +must surround your workmen are those simply of happy modern English +life, because the designs you have now to ask for from your workmen are +such as will make modern English life beautiful. All that gorgeousness +of the middle ages, beautiful as it sounds in description, noble as in +many respects it was in reality, had, nevertheless, for foundation and +for end, nothing but the pride of life--the pride of the so-called +superior classes; a pride which supported itself by violence and +robbery, and led in the end to the destruction both of the arts +themselves and the States in which they nourished. + +The great lesson of history is, that all the fine arts hitherto--having +been supported by the selfish power of the noblesse, and never having +extended their range to the comfort or the relief of the mass of the +people--the arts, I say, thus practised, and thus matured, have only +accelerated the ruin of the States they adorned; and at the moment +when, in any kingdom, you point to the triumphs of its greatest +artists, you point also to the determined hour of the kingdom's +decline. The names of great painters are like passing bells: in the +name of Velasquez, you hear sounded the fall of Spain; in the name of +Titian, that of Venice; in the name of Leonardo, that of Milan; in the +name of Raphael, that of Rome. And there is profound justice in this; +for in proportion to the nobleness of the power is the guilt of its use +for purposes vain or vile; and hitherto the greater the art, the more +surely has it been used, and used solely, for the decoration of pride, +[Footnote: Whether religious or profane pride,--chapel or banqueting +room,--is no matter.] or the provoking of sensuality. Another course +lies open to us. We may abandon the hope--or if you like the words +better--we may disdain the temptation, of the pomp and grace of Italy +in her youth. For us there can be no more the throne of marble--for us +no more the vault of gold--but for us there is the loftier and lovelier +privilege of bringing the power and charm of art within the reach of +the humble and the poor; and as the magnificence of past ages failed by +its narrowness and its pride, ours may prevail and continue, by its +universality and its lowliness. + +And thus, between the picture of too laborious England, which we +imagined as future, and the picture of too luxurious Italy, which we +remember in the past, there may exist--there will exist, if we do our +duty--an intermediate condition, neither oppressed by labour nor wasted +in vanity--the condition of a peaceful and thoughtful temperance in +aims, and acts, and arts. + +We are about to enter upon a period of our world's history in which +domestic life, aided by the arts of peace, will slowly, but at last +entirely, supersede public life and the arts of war. For our own +England, she will not, I believe, be blasted throughout with furnaces; +nor will she be encumbered with palaces. I trust she will keep her +green fields, her cottages, and her homes of middle life; but these +ought to be, and I trust will be enriched with a useful, truthful, +substantial form of art. We want now no more feasts of the gods, nor +martyrdoms of the saints; we have no need of sensuality, no place for +superstition, or for costly insolence. Let us have learned and faithful +historical painting--touching and thoughtful representations of human +nature, in dramatic painting; poetical and familiar renderings of +natural objects and of landscape; and rational, deeply-felt +realizations of the events which are the subjects of our religious +faith. And let these things we want, as far as possible, be scattered +abroad and made accessible to all men. + +So also, in manufacture: we require work substantial rather than rich +in make; and refined, rather than splendid in design. Your stuffs need +not be such as would catch the eye of a duchess; but they should be +such as may at once serve the need, and refine the taste, of a +cottager. The prevailing error in English dress, especially among the +lower orders, is a tendency to flimsiness and gaudiness, arising mainly +from the awkward imitation of their superiors. [Footnote: If their +superiors would give them simplicity and economy to imitate, it would, +in the issue, be well for themselves, as well as for those whom they +guide. The typhoid fever of passion for dress, and all other display, +which has struck the upper classes of Europe at this time, is one of +the most dangerous political elements we have to deal with. Its +wickedness I have shown elsewhere (Polit. Economy of Art, p. 62, _et +seq._); but its wickedness is, in the minds of most persons, a +matter of no importance. I wish I had time also to show them its +danger. I cannot enter here into political investigation; but this is a +certain fact, that the wasteful and vain expenses at present indulged +in by the upper classes are hastening the advance of republicanism more +than any other element of modern change. No agitators, no clubs, no +epidemical errors, ever were, or will be, fatal to social order in any +nation. Nothing but the guilt of the upper classes, wanton, +accumulated, reckless, and merciless, ever overthrows them Of such +guilt they have now much to answer for--let them look to it in time.] +It should be one of the first objects of all manufacturers to produce +stuffs not only beautiful and quaint in design, but also adapted for +every-day service, and decorous in humble and secluded life. And you +must remember always that your business, as manufacturers, is to form +the market, as much as to supply it. If, in shortsighted and reckless +eagerness for wealth, you catch at every humour of the populace as it +shapes itself into momentary demand--if, in jealous rivalry with +neighbouring States, or with other producers, you try to attract +attention by singularities, novelties, and gaudinesses--to make every +design an advertisement, and pilfer every idea of a successful +neighbour's, that you may insidiously imitate it, or pompously eclipse +--no good design will ever be possible to you, or perceived by you. You +may, by accident, snatch the market; or, by energy, command it; you may +obtain the confidence of the public, and cause the ruin of opponent +houses; or you may, with equal justice of fortune, be ruined by them. +But whatever happens to you, this, at least, is certain, that the whole +of your life will have been spent in corrupting public taste and +encouraging public extravagance. Every preference you have won by +gaudiness must have been based on the purchaser's vanity; every demand +you have created by novelty has fostered in the consumer a habit of +discontent; and when you retire into inactive life, you may, as a +subject of consolation for your declining years, reflect that precisely +according to the extent of your past operations, your life has been +successful in retarding the arts,--tarnishing the virtues, and +confusing the manners of your country. + +But, on the other hand, if you resolve from the first that, so far as +you can ascertain or discern what is best, you will produce what is +best, on an intelligent consideration of the probable tendencies and +possible tastes of the people whom you supply, you may literally become +more influential for all kinds of good than many lecturers on art, or +many treatise-writers on morality. Considering the materials dealt +with, and the crude state of art knowledge at the time, I do not know +that any more wide or effective influence in public taste was ever +exercised than that of the Staffordshire manufacture of pottery under +William Wedgwood, and it only rests with the manufacturer in every +other business to determine whether he will, in like manner, make his +wares educational instruments, or mere drugs of the market. You all +should, be, in a certain sense, authors: you must, indeed, first catch +the public eye, as an author must the public ear; but once gain your +audience, or observance, and as it is in the writer's power +thenceforward to publish what will educate as it amuses--so it is in +yours to publish what will educate as it adorns. Nor is this surely a +subject of poor ambition. I hear it said continually that men are too +ambitious: alas! to me, it seems they are never enough ambitious. How +many are content to be merely the thriving merchants of a state, when +they might be its guides, counsellors, and rulers--wielding powers of +subtle but gigantic beneficence, in restraining its follies while they +supplied its wants. Let such duty, such ambition, be once accepted in +their fulness, and the best glory of European art and of European +manufacture may yet be to come. The paintings of Raphael and of +Buonaroti gave force to the falsehoods of superstition, and majesty to +the imaginations of sin; but the arts of England may have, for their +task, to inform the soul with truth, and touch the heart with +compassion. The steel of Toledo and the silk of Genoa did but give +strength to oppression and lustre to pride: let it be for the furnace +and for the loom of England, as they have already richly earned, still +more abundantly to bestow, comfort on the indigent, civilization on the +rude, and to dispense, through the peaceful homes of nations, the grace +and the preciousness of simple adornment, and useful possession. + + + + +LECTURE IV. + +INFLUENCE OF IMAGINATION IN ARCHITECTURE + +_An Address Delivered to the Members of the Architectural +Association, in Lyon's Inn Hall, 1857._ + + +If we were to be asked abruptly, and required to answer briefly, what +qualities chiefly distinguish great artists from feeble artists, we +should answer, I suppose, first, their sensibility and tenderness; +secondly, their imagination; and thirdly, their industry. Some of us +might, perhaps, doubt the justice of attaching so much importance to +this last character, because we have all known clever men who were +indolent, and dull men who were industrious. But though you may have +known clever men who were indolent, you never knew a great man who was +so; and, during such investigation as I have been able to give to the +lives of the artists whose works are in all points noblest, no fact +ever looms so large upon me--no law remains so steadfast in the +universality of its application, as the fact and law that they are all +great workers: nothing concerning them is matter of more astonishment +than the quantity they have accomplished in the given length of their +life; and when I hear a young man spoken of, as giving promise of high +genius, the first question I ask about him is always-- + +Does he work? + +But though this quality of industry is essential to an artist, it does +not in anywise make an artist; many people are busy, whose doings are +little worth. Neither does sensibility make an artist; since, as I +hope, many can feel both strongly and nobly, who yet care nothing about +art. But the gifts which distinctively mark the artist--_without_ +which he must be feeble in life, forgotten in death--_with_ which +he may become one of the shakers of the earth, and one of the signal +lights in heaven--are those of sympathy and imagination. I will not +occupy your time, nor incur the risk of your dissent, by endeavouring +to give any close definition of this last word. We all have a general +and sufficient idea of imagination, and of its work with our hands and +in our hearts: we understand it, I suppose, as the imaging or picturing +of new things in our thoughts; and we always show an involuntary +respect for this power, wherever we can recognize it, acknowledging it +to be a greater power than manipulation, or calculation, or +observation, or any other human faculty. If we see an old woman +spinning at the fireside, and distributing her thread dexterously from +the distaff, we respect her for her manipulation--if we ask her how +much she expects to make in a year, and she answers quickly, we respect +her for her calculation--if she is watching at the same time that none +of her grandchildren fall into the fire, we respect her for her +observation--yet for all this she may still be a commonplace old woman +enough. But if she is all the time telling her grandchildren a fairy +tale out of her head, we praise her for her imagination, and say, she +must be a rather remarkable old woman. Precisely in like manner, if an +architect does his working-drawing well, we praise him for his +manipulation--if he keeps closely within his contract, we praise him +for his honest arithmetic--if he looks well to the laying of his beams, +so that nobody shall drop through the floor, we praise him for his +observation. But he must, somehow, tell us a fairy tale out of his head +beside all this, else we cannot praise him for his imagination, nor +speak of him as we did of the old woman, as being in any wise out of +the common way, a rather remarkable architect. It seemed to me, +therefore, as if it might interest you to-night, if we were to consider +together what fairy tales are, in and by architecture, to be told--what +there is for you to do in this severe art of yours "out of your heads," +as well as by your hands. + +Perhaps the first idea which a young architect is apt to be allured by, +as a head-problem in these experimental days, is its being incumbent +upon him to invent a "new style" worthy of modern civilization in +general, and of England in particular; a style worthy of our engines +and telegraphs; as expansive as steam, and as sparkling as electricity. + +But, if there are any of my hearers who have been impressed with this +sense of inventive duty, may I ask them first, whether their plan is +that every inventive architect among us shall invent a new style for +himself, and have a county set aside for his conceptions, or a province +for his practice? Or, must every architect invent a little piece of the +new style, and all put it together at last like a dissected map? And if +so, when the new style is invented, what is to be done next? I will +grant you this Eldorado of imagination--but can you have more than one +Columbus? Or, if you sail in company, and divide the prize of your +discovery and the honour thereof, who is to come after you clustered +Columbuses? to what fortunate islands of style are your architectural +descendants to sail, avaricious of new lands? When our desired style is +invented, will not the best we can all do be simply--to build in it?-- +and cannot you now do that in styles that are known? Observe, I grant, +for the sake of your argument, what perhaps many of you know that I +would not grant otherwise--that a new style _can_ be invented. I +grant you not only this, but that it shall be wholly different from any +that was ever practised before. We will suppose that capitals are to be +at the bottom of pillars instead of the top; and that buttresses shall +be on the tops of pinnacles instead of at the bottom; that you roof +your apertures with stones which shall neither be arched nor +horizontal; and that you compose your decoration of lines which shall +neither be crooked nor straight. The furnace and the forge shall be at +your service: you shall draw out your plates of glass and beat out your +bars of iron till you have encompassed us all,--if your style is of the +practical kind,--with endless perspective of black skeleton and +blinding square,--or if your style is to be of the ideal kind--you +shall wreathe your streets with ductile leafage, and roof them with +variegated crystal--you shall put, if you will, all London under one +blazing dome of many colours that shall light the clouds round it with +its flashing, as far as to the sea. And still, I ask you, What after +this? Do you suppose those imaginations of yours will ever lie down +there asleep beneath the shade of your iron leafage, or within the +coloured light of your enchanted dome? Not so. Those souls, and +fancies, and ambitions of yours, are wholly infinite; and, whatever may +be done by others, you will still want to do something for yourselves; +if you cannot rest content with Palladio, neither will you with Paxton: +all the metal and glass that ever were melted have not so much weight +in them as will clog the wings of one human spirit's aspiration. + +If you will think over this quietly by yourselves, and can get the +noise out of your ears of the perpetual, empty, idle, incomparably +idiotic talk about the necessity of some novelty in architecture, you +will soon see that the very essence of a Style, properly so called, is +that it should be practised _for ages_, and applied to all +purposes; and that so long as any given style is in practice, all that +is left for individual imagination to accomplish must be within the +scope of that style, not in the invention of a new one. If there are +any here, therefore, who hope to obtain celebrity by the invention of +some strange way of building which must convince all Europe into its +adoption, to them, for the moment, I must not be understood to address +myself, but only to those who would be content with that degree of +celebrity which an artist may enjoy who works in the manner of his +forefathers;--which the builder of Salisbury Cathedral might enjoy in +England, though he did not invent Gothic; and which Titian might enjoy +at Venice, though he did not invent oil painting. Addressing myself +then to those humbler, but wiser, or rather, only wise students who are +content to avail themselves of some system of building already +understood, let us consider together what room for the exercise of the +imagination may be left to us under such conditions. And, first, I +suppose it will be said, or thought, that the architect's principal +field for exercise of his invention must be in the disposition of +lines, mouldings, and masses, in agreeable proportions. Indeed, if you +adopt some styles of architecture, you cannot exercise invention in any +other way. And I admit that it requires genius and special gift to do +this rightly. Not by rule, nor by study, can the gift of graceful +proportionate design be obtained; only by the intuition of genius can +so much as a single tier of faēade be beautifully arranged; and the man +has just cause for pride, as far as our gifts can ever be a cause for +pride, who finds himself able, in a design of his own, to rival even +the simplest arrangement of parts in one by Sanmicheli, Inigo Jones, or +Christopher Wren. + +Invention, then, and genius being granted, as necessary to accomplish +this, let me ask you, What, after all, with this special gift and +genius, you _have_ accomplished, when you have arranged the lines +of a building beautifully? + +In the first place you will not, I think, tell me that the beauty there +attained is of a touching or pathetic kind. A well-disposed group of +notes in music will make you sometimes weep and sometimes laugh. You +can express the depth of all affections by those dispositions of sound: +you can give courage to the soldier, language to the lover, consolation +to the mourner, more joy to the joyful, more humility to the devout. +Can you do as much by your group of lines? Do you suppose the front of +Whitehall, a singularly beautiful one ever inspires the two Horse +Guards, during the hour they sit opposite to it, with military ardour? +Do you think that the lovers in our London walk down to the front of +Whitehall for consolation when mistresses are unkind; or that any +person wavering in duty, or feeble in faith, was ever confirmed in +purpose or in creed by the pathetic appeal of those harmonious +architraves? You will not say so. Then, if they cannot touch, or +inspire, or comfort any one, can your architectural proportions amuse +any one? Christmas is just over; you have doubtless been at many merry +parties during the period. Can you remember any in which architectural +proportions contributed to the entertainment of the evening? +Proportions of notes in music were, I am sure, essential to your +amusement; the setting of flowers in hair, and of ribands on dresses, +were also subjects of frequent admiration with you, not inessential to +your happiness. Among the juvenile members of your society the +proportion of currants in cake, and of sugar in comfits, became +subjects of acute interest; and, when such proportions were harmonious, +motives also of gratitude to cook and to confectioner. But did you ever +see either young or old amused by the architrave of the door? Or +otherwise interested in the proportions of the room than as they +admitted more or fewer friendly faces? Nay, if all the amusement that +there is in the best proportioned architecture of London could be +concentrated into one evening, and you were to issue tickets for +nothing to this great proportional entertainment;--how do you think it +would stand between you and the Drury pantomine? + +You are, then, remember, granted to be people of genius--great and +admirable; and you devote your lives to your art, but you admit that +you cannot comfort anybody, you cannot encourage anybody, you cannot +improve anybody, and you cannot amuse anybody. I proceed then farther +to ask, Can you inform anybody? Many sciences cannot be considered as +highly touching or emotional; nay, perhaps not specially amusing; +scientific men may sometimes, in these respects, stand on the same +ground with you. As far as we can judge by the results of the late war, +science helps our soldiers about as much as the front of Whitehall; and +at the Christmas parties, the children wanted no geologists to tell +them about the behaviour of bears and dragons in Queen Elizabeth's +time. Still, your man of science teaches you something; he may be dull +at a party, or helpless in a battle, he is not always that; but he can +give you, at all events, knowledge of noble facts, and open to you the +secrets of the earth and air. Will your architectural proportions do as +much? Your genius is granted, and your life is given, and what do you +teach us?--Nothing, I believe, from one end of that life to the other, +but that two and two make four, and that one is to two as three is to +six. + +You cannot, then, it is admitted, comfort any one, serve or amuse any +one, nor teach any one. Finally, I ask, Can you be of _Use_ to any +one? "Yes," you reply; "certainly we are of some use--we architects--in +a climate like this, where it always rains." You are of use certainly; +but, pardon me, only as builders--not as proportionalists. We are not +talking of building as a protection, but only of that special work +which your genius is to do; not of building substantial and comfortable +houses like Mr. Cubitt, but of putting beautiful faēades on them like +Inigo Jones. And, again, I ask--Are you of use to any one? Will your +proportions of the faēade heal the sick, or clothe the naked? Supposing +you devoted your lives to be merchants, you might reflect at the close +of them, how many, fainting for want, you had brought corn to sustain; +how many, infected with disease, you had brought balms to heal; how +widely, among multitudes of far-away nations, you had scattered the +first seeds of national power, and guided the first rays of sacred +light. Had you been, in fine, _anything_ else in the world +_but_ architectural designers, you might have been of some use or +good to people. Content to be petty tradesmen, you would have saved the +time of mankind;--rough-handed daily labourers, you would have added to +their stock of food or of clothing. But, being men of genius, and +devoting your lives to the exquisite exposition of this genius, on what +achievements do you think the memories of your old age are to fasten? +Whose gratitude will surround you with its glow, or on what +accomplished good, of that greatest kind for which men show _no_ +gratitude, will your life rest the contentment of its close? Truly, I +fear that the ghosts of proportionate lines will be thin phantoms at +your bedsides--very speechless to you; and that on all the emanations +of your high genius you will look back with less delight than you might +have done on a cup of cold water given to him who was thirsty, or to a +single moment when you had "prevented with your bread him that fled." + +Do not answer, nor think to answer, that with your great works and +great payments of workmen in them, you would do this; I know you would, +and will, as Builders; but, I repeat, it is not your _building_ +that I am talking about, but your _brains_; it is your invention +and imagination of whose profit I am speaking. The good done through +the building, observe, is done by your employers, not by you--you share +in the benefit of it. The good that _you_ personally must do is by +your designing; and I compare you with musicians who do good by their +pathetic composing, not as they do good by employing fiddlers in the +orchestra; for it is the public who in reality do that, not the +musicians. So clearly keeping to this one question, what good we +architects are to do by our genius; and having found that on our +proportionate system we can do no good to others, will you tell me, +lastly, what good we can do to _ourselves_? + +Observe, nearly every other liberal art or profession has some intense +pleasure connected with it, irrespective of any good to others. As +lawyers, or physicians, or clergymen, you would have the pleasure of +investigation, and of historical reading, as part of your work: as men +of science you would be rejoicing in curiosity perpetually gratified +respecting the laws and facts of nature: as artists you would have +delight in watching the external forms of nature: as day labourers or +petty tradesmen, supposing you to undertake such work with as much +intellect as you are going to devote to your designing, you would find +continued subjects of interest in the manufacture or the agriculture +which you helped to improve; or in the problems of commerce which bore +on your business. But your architectural designing leads you into no +pleasant journeys,--into no seeing of lovely things,--no discerning of +just laws,--no warmths of compassion, no humilities of veneration, no +progressive state of sight or soul. Our conclusion is--must be--that +you will not amuse, nor inform, nor help anybody; you will not amuse, +nor better, nor inform yourselves; you will sink into a state in which +you can neither show, nor feel, nor see, anything, but that one is to +two as three is to six. And in that state what should we call +ourselves? Men? I think not. The right name for us would be--numerators +and denominators. Vulgar Fractions. + +Shall we, then, abandon this theory of the soul of architecture being +in proportional lines, and look whether we can find anything better to +exert our fancies upon? + +May we not, to begin with, accept this great principle--that, as our +bodies, to be in health, must be _generally_ exercised, so our +minds, to be in health, must be _generally_ cultivated? You would +not call a man healthy who had strong arms but was paralytic in his +feet; nor one who could walk well, but had no use of his hands; nor one +who could see well, if he could not hear. You would not voluntarily +reduce your bodies to any such partially developed state. Much more, +then, you would not, if you could help it, reduce your minds to it. +Now, your minds are endowed with a vast number of gifts of totally +different uses--limbs of mind as it were, which, if you don't exercise, +you cripple. One is curiosity; that is a gift, a capacity of pleasure +in knowing; which if you destroy, you make yourselves cold and dull. +Another is sympathy; the power of sharing in the feelings of living +creatures, which if you destroy, you make yourselves hard and cruel. +Another of your limbs of mind is admiration; the power of enjoying +beauty or ingenuity, which, if you destroy, you make yourselves base +and irreverent. Another is wit; or the power of playing with the lights +on the many sides of truth; which if you destroy, you make yourselves +gloomy, and less useful and cheering to others than you might be. So +that in choosing your way of work it should be your aim, as far as +possible, to bring out all these faculties, as far as they exist in +you; not one merely, nor another, but all of them. And the way to bring +them out, is simply to concern yourselves attentively with the subjects +of each faculty. To cultivate sympathy you must be among living +creatures, and thinking about them; and to cultivate admiration, you +must be among beautiful things and looking at them. + +All this sounds much like truism, at least I hope it does, for then you +will surely not refuse to act upon it; and to consider farther, how, as +architects, you are to keep yourselves in contemplation of living +creatures and lovely things. + +You all probably know the beautiful photographs which have been +published within the last year or two of the porches of the Cathedral +of Amiens. I hold one of these up to you, (merely that you may know +what I am talking about, as of course you cannot see the detail at this +distance, but you will recognise the subject.) Have you ever considered +how much sympathy, and how much humour, are developed in filling this +single doorway [Footnote: The tympanum of the south transcept door; it +is to be found generally among all collections of architectural +photographs] with these sculptures of the history of St. Honoré (and, +by the way, considering how often we English are now driving up and +down the Rue St. Honoré, we may as well know as much of the saint as +the old architect cared to tell us). You know in all legends of saints +who ever were bishops, the first thing you are told of them is that +they didn't want to be bishops. So here is St. Honoré, who doesn't want +to be a bishop, sitting sulkily in the corner; he hugs his book with +both hands, and won't get up to take his crosier; and here are all the +city aldermen of Amiens come to _poke_ him up; and all the monks +in the town in a great puzzle what they shall do for a bishop if St. +Honoré won't be; and here's one of the monks in the opposite corner who +is quite cool about it, and thinks they'll get on well enough without +St Honoré,--you see that in his face perfectly. At last St. Honoré +consents to be bishop, and here he sits in a throne, and has his book +now grandly on his desk instead of his knees, and he directs one of his +village curates how to find relics in a wood; here is the wood, and +here is the village curate, and here are the tombs, with the bones of +St. Victorien and Gentien in them. + +After this, St. Honoré performs grand mass, and the miracle occurs of +the appearance of a hand blessing the wafer, which occurrence +afterwards was painted for the arms of the abbey. Then St. Honoré dies; +and here is his tomb with his statue on the top; and miracles are being +performed at it--a deaf man having his ear touched, and a blind man +groping his way up to the tomb with his dog. Then here is a great +procession in honour of the relics of St. Honoré; and under his coffin +are some cripples being healed; and the coffin itself is put above the +bar which separates the cross from the lower subjects, because the +tradition is that the figure on the crucifix of the Church of St. +Firmin bowed its head in token of acceptance, as the relics of St. +Honoré passed beneath. + +Now just consider the amount of sympathy with human nature, and +observance of it, shown in this one bas-relief; the sympathy with +disputing monks, with puzzled aldermen, with melancholy recluse, with +triumphant prelate, with palsy-stricken poverty, with ecclesiastical +magnificence, or miracle-working faith. Consider how much intellect was +needed in the architect, and how much observance of nature before he +could give the expression to these various figures--cast these +multitudinous draperies--design these rich and quaint fragments of +tombs and altars--weave with perfect animation the entangled branches +of the forest. + +But you will answer me, all this is not architecture at all--it is +sculpture. Will you then tell me precisely where the separation exists +between one and the other? We will begin at the very beginning. I will +show you a piece of what you will certainly admit to be a piece of pure +architecture; [Footnote: See Appendix III., "Classical Architecture."] +it is drawn on the back of another photograph, another of these +marvellous tympana from Notre Dame, which you call, I suppose, impure. +Well, look on this picture, and on this. Don't laugh; you must not +laugh, that's very improper of you, this is classical architecture. I +have taken it out of the essay on that subject in the "Encyclopędia +Britannica." + +Yet I suppose none of you would think yourselves particularly ingenious +architects if you had designed nothing more than this; nay, I will even +let you improve it into any grand proportion you choose, and add to it +as many windows as you choose; the only thing I insist upon in our +specimen of pure architecture is, that there shall be no mouldings nor +ornaments upon it. And I suspect you don't quite like your architecture +so "pure" as this. We want a few mouldings, you will say--just a few. +Those who want mouldings, hold up their hands. We are unanimous, I +think. Will, you, then, design the profiles of these mouldings +yourselves, or will you copy them? If you wish to copy them, and to +copy them always, of course I leave you at once to your authorities, +and your imaginations to their repose. But if you wish to design them +yourselves, how do you do it? You draw the profile according to your +taste, and you order your mason to cut it. Now, will you tell me the +logical difference between drawing the profile of a moulding and giving +_that_ to be cut, and drawing the folds of the drapery of a statue +and giving _those_ to be cut. The last is much more difficult to +do than the first; but degrees of difficulty constitute no specific +difference, and you will not accept it, surely, as a definition of the +difference between architecture and sculpture, that "architecture is +doing anything that is easy, and sculpture anything that is difficult." + +It is true, also, that the carved moulding represents nothing, and the +carved drapery represents something; but you will not, I should think, +accept, as an explanation of the difference between architecture and +sculpture, this any more than the other, that "sculpture is art which +has meaning, and architecture art which has none." + +Where, then, is your difference? In this, perhaps, you will say; that +whatever ornaments we can direct ourselves, and get accurately cut to +order, we consider architectural. The ornaments that we are obliged to +leave to the pleasure of the workman, or the superintendence of some +other designer, we consider sculptural, especially if they are more or +less extraneous and incrusted--not an essential part of the building. + +Accepting this definition, I am compelled to reply, that it is in +effect nothing more than an amplification of my first one--that +whatever is easy you call architecture, whatever is difficult you call +sculpture. For you cannot suppose the arrangement of the place in which +the sculpture is to be put is so difficult or so great a part of the +design as the sculpture itself. For instance: you all know the pulpit +of Niccolo Pisano, in the baptistry at Pisa. It is composed of seven +rich _relievi_, surrounded by panel mouldings, and sustained on +marble shafts. Do you suppose Niccolo Pisano's reputation--such part of +it at least as rests on this pulpit (and much does)--depends on the +panel mouldings, or on the relievi? The panel mouldings are by his +hand; he would have disdained to leave even them to a common workman; +but do you think he found any difficulty in them, or thought there was +any credit in them? Having once done the sculpture, those enclosing +lines were mere child's play to him; the determination of the diameter +of shafts and height of capitals was an affair of minutes; his +_work_ was in carving the Crucifixion and the Baptism. + +Or, again, do you recollect Orcagna's tabernacle in the church of San +Michele, at Florence? That, also, consists of rich and multitudinous +bas-reliefs, enclosed in panel mouldings, with shafts of mosaic, and +foliated arches sustaining the canopy. Do you think Orcagna, any more +than Pisano, if his spirit could rise in the midst of us at this +moment, would tell us that he had trusted his fame to the foliation, or +had put his soul's pride into the panelling? Not so; he would tell you +that his spirit was in the stooping figures that stand round the couch +of the dying Virgin. + +Or, lastly, do you think the man who designed the procession on the +portal of Amiens was the subordinate workman? that there was an +architect over _him_, restraining him within certain limits, and +ordering of him his bishops at so much a mitre, and his cripples at so +much a crutch? Not so. _Here_, on this sculptured shield, rests +the Master's hand; _this_ is the centre of the Master's thought; +from this, and in subordination to this, waved the arch and sprang the +pinnacle. Having done this, and being able to give human expression and +action to the stone, all the rest--the rib, the niche, the foil, the +shaft--were mere toys to his hand and accessories to his conception: +and if once you also gain the gift of doing this, if once you can carve +one fronton such as you have here, I tell you, you would be able--so +far as it depended on your invention--to scatter cathedrals over +England as fast as clouds rise from its streams after summer rain. + +Nay, but perhaps you answer again, our sculptors at present do not +design cathedrals, and could not. No, they could not; but that is +merely because we have made architecture so dull that they cannot take +any interest in it, and, therefore, do not care to add to their higher +knowledge the poor and common knowledge of principles of building. You +have thus separated building from sculpture, and you have taken away +the power of both; for the sculptor loses nearly as much by never +having room for the development of a continuous work, as you do from +having reduced your work to a continuity of mechanism. You are +essentially, and should always be, the same body of men, admitting only +such difference in operation as there is between the work of a painter +at different times, who sometimes labours on a small picture, and +sometimes on the frescoes of a palace gallery. + +This conclusion, then, we arrive at, _must_ arrive at; the fact +being irrevocably so:--that in order to give your imagination and the +other powers of your souls full play, you must do as all the great +architects of old time did--you must yourselves be your sculptors. +Phidias, Michael Angelo, Orcagna, Pisano, Giotto,--which of these men, +do you think, could not use his chisel? You say, "It is difficult; +quite out of your way." I know it is; nothing that is great is easy; +and nothing that is great, so long as you study building without +sculpture, can be _in_ your way. I want to put it in your way, and +you to find your way to it. But, on the other hand, do not shrink from +the task as if the refined art of perfect sculpture were always +required from you. For, though architecture and sculpture are not +separate arts, there is an architectural _manner_ of sculpture; +and it is, in the majority of its applications, a comparatively easy +one. Our great mistake at present, in dealing with stone at all, is +requiring to have all our work too refined; it is just the same mistake +as if we were to require all our book illustrations to be as fine work +as Raphael's. John Leech does not sketch so well as Leonardo da Vinci; +but do you think that the public could easily spare him; or that he is +wrong in bringing out his talent in the way in which it is most +effective? Would you advise him, if he asked your advice, to give up +his wood-blocks and take to canvas? I know you would not; neither would +you tell him, I believe, on the other hand, that because he could not +draw as well as Leonardo, therefore he ought to draw nothing but +straight lines with a ruler, and circles with compasses, and no figure- +subjects at all. That would be some loss to you; would it not? You +would all be vexed if next week's _Punch_ had nothing in it but +proportionate lines. And yet, do not you see that you are doing +precisely the same thing with _your_ powers of sculptural design +that he would be doing with his powers of pictorial design, if he gave +you nothing but such lines. You feel that you cannot carve like +Phidias; therefore you will not carve at all, but only draw mouldings; +and thus all that intermediate power which is of especial value in +modern days,--that popular power of expression which is within the +attainment of thousands,--and would address itself to tens of +thousands,--is utterly lost to us in stone, though in ink and paper it +has become one of the most desired luxuries of modern civilization. + +Here, then, is one part of the subject to which I would especially +invite your attention, namely, the distinctive character which may be +wisely permitted to belong to architectural sculpture, as distinguished +from perfect sculpture on one side, and from mere geometrical +decoration on the other. + +And first, observe what an indulgence we have in the distance at which +most work is to be seen. Supposing we were able to carve eyes and lips +with the most exquisite precision, it would all be of no use as soon as +the work was put far above the eye; but, on the other hand, as beauties +disappear by being far withdrawn, so will faults; and the mystery and +confusion which are the natural consequence of distance, while they +would often render your best skill but vain, will as often render your +worst errors of little consequence; nay, more than this, often a deep +cut, or a rude angle, will produce in certain positions an effect of +expression both startling and true, which you never hoped for. Not that +mere distance will give animation to the work, if it has none in +itself; but if it has life at all, the distance will make that life +more perceptible and powerful by softening the defects of execution. So +that you are placed, as workmen, in this position of singular +advantage, that you may give your fancies free play, and strike hard +for the expression that you want, knowing that, if you miss it, no one +will detect you; if you at all touch it, nature herself will help you, +and with every changing shadow and basking sunbeam bring forth new +phases of your fancy. + +But it is not merely this privilege of being imperfect which belongs to +architectural sculpture. It has a true privilege of imagination, far +excelling all that can be granted to the more finished work, which, for +the sake of distinction, I will call,--and I don't think we can have a +much better term--"furniture sculpture;" sculpture, that is, which can +be moved from place to furnish rooms. + +For observe, to that sculpture the spectator is usually brought in a +tranquil or prosaic state of mind; he sees it associated rather with +what is sumptuous than sublime, and under circumstances which address +themselves more to his comfort than his curiosity. The statue which is +to be pathetic, seen between the flashes of footmen's livery round the +dining-table, must have strong elements of pathos in itself; and the +statue which is to be awful, in the midst of the gossip of the drawing- +room, must have the elements of awe wholly in itself. But the spectator +is brought to _your_ work already in an excited and imaginative +mood. He has been impressed by the cathedral wall as it loomed over the +low streets, before he looks up to the carving of its porch--and his +love of mystery has been touched by the silence and the shadows of the +cloister, before he can set himself to decipher the bosses on its +vaulting. So that when once he begins to observe your doings, he will +ask nothing better from you, nothing kinder from you, than that you +would meet this imaginative temper of his half way;--that you would +farther touch the sense of terror, or satisfy the expectation of things +strange, which have been prompted by the mystery or the majesty of the +surrounding scene. And thus, your leaving forms more or less undefined, +or carrying out your fancies, however extravagant, in grotesqueness of +shadow or shape, will be for the most part in accordance with the +temper of the observer; and he is likely, therefore, much more +willingly to use his fancy to help your meanings, than his judgment to +detect your faults. + +Again. Remember that when the imagination and feelings are strongly +excited, they will not only bear with strange things, but they will +_look_ into _minute_ things with a delight quite unknown in +hours of tranquillity. You surely must remember moments of your lives +in which, under some strong excitement of feeling, all the details of +visible objects presented themselves with a strange intensity and +insistance, whether you would or no; urging themselves upon the mind, +and thrust upon the eye, with a force of fascination which you could +not refuse. Now, to a certain extent, the senses get into this state +whenever the imagination is strongly excited. Things trivial at other +times assume a dignity or significance which we cannot explain; but +which is only the more attractive because inexplicable: and the powers +of attention, quickened by the feverish excitement, fasten and feed +upon the minutest circumstances of detail, and remotest traces of +intention. So that what would at other times be felt as more or less +mean or extraneous in a work of sculpture, and which would assuredly be +offensive to the perfect taste in its moments of languor, or of +critical judgment, will be grateful, and even sublime, when it meets +this frightened inquisitiveness, this fascinated watchfulness, of the +roused imagination. And this is all for your advantage; for, in the +beginnings of your sculpture, you will assuredly find it easier to +imitate minute circumstances of costume or character, than to perfect +the anatomy of simple forms or the flow of noble masses; and it will be +encouraging to remember that the grace you cannot perfect, and the +simplicity you cannot achieve, would be in great part vain, even if you +could achieve them, in their appeal to the hasty curiosity of +passionate fancy; but that the sympathy which would be refused to your +science will be granted to your innocence: and that the mind of the +general observer, though wholly unaffected by the correctness of +anatomy or propriety of gesture, will follow you with fond and pleased +concurrence, as you carve the knots of the hair, and the patterns of +the vesture. + +Farther yet. We are to remember that not only do the associated +features of the larger architecture tend to excite the strength of +fancy, but the architectural laws to which you are obliged to submit +your decoration stimulate its _ingenuity_. Every crocket which you +are to crest with sculpture,--every foliation which you have to fill, +presents itself to the spectator's fancy, not only as a pretty thing, +but as a _problematic_ thing. It contained, he perceives +immediately, not only a beauty which you wished to display, but a +necessity which you were forced to meet; and the problem, how to occupy +such and such a space with organic form in any probable way, or how to +turn such a boss or ridge into a conceivable image of life, becomes at +once, to him as to you, a matter of amusement as much as of admiration. +The ordinary conditions of perfection in form, gesture, or feature, are +willingly dispensed with, when the ugly dwarf and ungainly goblin have +only to gather themselves into angles, or crouch to carry corbels; and +the want of skill which, in other kinds of work would have been +required for the finishing of the parts, will at once be forgiven here, +if you have only disposed ingeniously what you have executed roughly, +and atoned for the rudeness of your hands by the quickness of your +wits. + +Hitherto, however, we have been considering only the circumstances in +architecture favourable to the development of the _powers_ of +imagination. A yet more important point for us seems, to me, the place +which it gives to all the _objects_ of imagination. + +For, I suppose, you will not wish me to spend any time in proving, that +imagination must be vigorous in proportion to the quantity of material +which it has to handle; and that, just as we increase the range of what +we see, we increase the richness of what we can imagine. Granting this, +consider what a field is opened to your fancy merely in the subject +matter which architecture admits. Nearly every other art is severely +limited in its subjects--the landscape painter, for instance, gets +little help from the aspects of beautiful humanity; the historical +painter, less, perhaps, than he ought, from the accidents of wild +nature; and the pure sculptor, still less, from the minor details of +common life. But is there anything within range of sight, or +conception, which may not be of use to _you_, or in which your +interest may not be excited with advantage to your art? From visions of +angels, down to the least important gesture of a child at play, +whatever may be conceived of Divine, or beheld of Human, may be dared +or adopted by you: throughout the kingdom of animal life, no creature +is so vast, or so minute, that you cannot deal with it, or bring it +into service; the lion and the crocodile will couch about your shafts; +the moth and the bee will sun themselves upon your flowers; for you, +the fawn will leap; for you, the snail be slow; for you, the dove +smooth her bosom; and the hawk spread her wings toward the south. All +the wide world of vegetation blooms and bends for you; the leaves +tremble that you may bid them be still under the marble snow; the thorn +and the thistle, which the earth casts forth as evil, are to you the +kindliest servants; no dying petal, nor drooping tendril, is so feeble +as to have no more help for you; no robed pride of blossom so kingly, +but it will lay aside its purple to receive at your hands the pale +immortality. Is there anything in common life too mean,--in common too +trivial,--to be ennobled by your touch? As there is nothing in life, so +there is nothing in lifelessness which has not its lesson for you, or +its gift; and when you are tired of watching the strength of the plume, +and the tenderness of the leaf, you may walk down to your rough river +shore, or into the thickest markets of your thoroughfares, and there is +not a piece of torn cable that will not twine into a perfect moulding; +there is not a fragment of cast-away matting, or shattered basket-work, +that will not work into a chequer or capital. Yes: and if you gather up +the very sand, and break the stone on which you tread, among its +fragments of all but invisible shells you will find forms that will +take their place, and that proudly, among the starred traceries of your +vaulting; and you, who can crown the mountain with its fortress, and +the city with its towers, are thus able also to give beauty to ashes, +and worthiness to dust. + +Now, in that your art presents all this material to you, you have +already much to rejoice in. But you have more to rejoice in, because +all this is submitted to you, not to be dissected or analyzed, but to +be sympathized with, and to bring out, therefore, what may be +accurately called the moral part of imagination. We saw that, if we +kept ourselves among lines only, we should have cause to envy the +naturalist, because he was conversant with facts; but you will have +little to envy now, if you make yourselves conversant with the feelings +that arise out of his facts. For instance, the naturalist coming upon a +block of marble, has to begin considering immediately how far its +purple is owing to iron, or its whiteness to magnesia; he breaks his +piece of marble, and at the close of his day, has nothing but a little +sand in his crucible and some data added to the theory of the elements. +But _you_ approach your marble to sympathize with it, and rejoice +over its beauty. You cut it a little indeed; but only to bring out its +veins more perfectly; and at the end of your day's work you leave your +marble shaft with joy and complacency in its perfectness, as marble. +When you have to watch an animal instead of a stone, you differ from +the naturalist in the same way. He may, perhaps, if he be an amiable +naturalist, take delight in having living creatures round him;--still, +the major part of his work is, or has been, in counting feathers, +separating fibres, and analyzing structures. But _your_ work is +always with the living creature; the thing you have to get at in him is +his life, and ways of going about things. It does not matter to you how +many cells there are in his bones, or how many filaments in his +feathers; what you want is his moral character and way of behaving +himself; it is just that which your imagination, if healthy, will first +seize--just that which your chisel, if vigorous, will first cut. You +must get the storm spirit into your eagles, and the lordliness into +your lions, and the tripping fear into your fawns; and in order to do +this, you must be in continual sympathy with every fawn of them; and be +hand-in-glove with all the lions, and hand-in-claw with all the hawks. +And don't fancy that you will lower yourselves by sympathy with the +lower creatures; you cannot sympathize rightly with the higher, unless +you do with those: but you have to sympathize with the higher, too-- +with queens, and kings, and martyrs, and angels. Yes, and above all, +and more than all, with simple humanity in all its needs and ways, for +there is not one hurried face that passes you in the street that will +not be impressive, if you can only fathom it. All history is open to +you, all high thoughts and dreams that the past fortunes of men can +suggest, all fairy land is open to you--no vision that ever haunted +forest, or gleamed over hill-side, but calls you to understand how it +came into men's hearts, and may still touch them; and all Paradise is +open to you--yes, and the work of Paradise; for in bringing all this, +in perpetual and attractive truth, before the eyes of your fellow-men, +you have to join in the employment of the angels, as well as to imagine +their companies. + +And observe, in this last respect, what a peculiar importance, and +responsibility, are attached to your work, when you consider its +permanence, and the multitudes to whom it is addressed. We frequently +are led, by wise people, to consider what responsibility may sometimes +attach to words, which yet, the chance is, will be heard by few, and +forgotten as soon as heard. But none of _your_ words will be heard +by few, and none will be forgotten, for five or six hundred years, if +you build well. You will talk to all who pass by; and all those little +sympathies, those freaks of fancy, those jests in stone, those +workings-out of problems in caprice, will occupy mind after mind of +utterly countless multitudes, long after you are gone. You have not, +like authors, to plead for a hearing, or to fear oblivion. Do but build +large enough, and carve boldly enough, and all the world will hear you; +they cannot choose but look. + +I do not mean to awe you by this thought; I do not mean that because +you will have so many witnesses and watchers, you are never to jest, or +do anything gaily or lightly; on the contrary, I have pleaded, from the +beginning, for this art of yours, especially because it has room for +the whole of your character--if jest is in you, let the jest be jested; +if mathematical ingenuity is yours, let your problem be put, and your +solution worked out, as quaintly as you choose; above all, see that +your work is easily and happily done, else it will never make anybody +else happy; but while you thus give the rein to all your impulses, see +that those impulses be headed and centred by one noble impulse; and let +that be Love--triple love--for the art which you practise, the creation +in which you move, and the creatures to whom you minister. + +I. I say, first, Love for the art which you practise. Be assured that +if ever any other motive becomes a leading one in your mind, as the +principal one for exertion, except your love of art, that moment it is +all over with your art. I do not say you are to desire money, nor to +desire fame, nor to desire position; you cannot but desire all three; +nay, you may--if you are willing that I should use the word Love in a +desecrated sense--love all three; that is, passionately covet them, yet +you must not covet or love them in the first place. Men of strong +passions and imaginations must always care a great deal for anything +they care for at all; but the whole question is one of first or second. +Does your art lead you, or your gain lead you? You may like making +money exceedingly; but if it come to a fair question, whether you are +to make five hundred pounds less by this business, or to spoil your +building, and you choose to spoil your building, there's an end of you. +So you may be as thirsty for fame as a cricket is for cream; but, if it +come to a fair question, whether you are to please the mob, or do the +thing as you know it ought to be done; and you can't do both, and +choose to please the mob, it's all over with you--there's no hope for +you; nothing that you can do will ever be worth a man's glance as he +passes by. The test is absolute, inevitable--Is your art first with +you? Then you are artists; you may be, after you have made your money, +misers and usurers; you may be, after you have got your fame, jealous, +and proud, and wretched, and base: but yet, _as long as you won't +spoil your work_, you are artists. On the other hand--Is your money +first with you, and your fame first with you? Then, you may be very +charitable with your money, and very magnificent with your money, and +very graceful in the way you wear your reputation, and very courteous +to those beneath you, and very acceptable to those above you; but you +are _not artists_. You are mechanics, and drudges. + +II. You must love the creation you work in the midst of. For, wholly in +proportion to the intensity of feeling which you bring to the subject +you have chosen, will be the depth and justice of our perception of its +character. And this depth of feeling is not to be gained on the +instant, when you want to bring it to bear on this or that. It is the +result of the general habit of striving to feel rightly; and, among +thousands of various means of doing this, perhaps the one I ought +specially to name to you, is the keeping yourselves clear of petty and +mean cares. Whatever you do, don't be anxious, nor fill your heads with +little chagrins and little desires. I have just said, that you may be +great artists, and yet be miserly and jealous, and troubled about many +things. So you may be; but I said also that the miserliness or trouble +must not be in your hearts all day. It is possible that you may get a +habit of saving money; or it is possible, at a time of great trial, you +may yield to the temptation of speaking unjustly of a rival,--and you +will shorten your powers arid dim your sight even by this;--but the +thing that you have to dread far more than any such unconscious habit, +or--any such momentary fall--is the _constancy of small emotions_;--the +anxiety whether Mr. So-and-so will like your work; whether such and such +a workman will do all that you want of him, and so on;--not wrong feelings +or anxieties in themselves, but impertinent, and wholly incompatible with +the full exercise of your imagination. + +Keep yourselves, therefore, quiet, peaceful, with your eyes open. It +doesn't matter at all what Mr. So-and-so thinks of your work; but it +matters a great deal what that bird is doing up there in its nest, or +how that vagabond child at the street corner is managing his game of +knuckle-down. And remember, you cannot turn aside from your own +interests, to the birds' and the children's interests, unless you have +long before got into the habit of loving and watching birds and +children; so that it all comes at last to the forgetting yourselves, +and the living out of yourselves, in the calm of the great world, or if +you will, in its agitation; but always in a calm of your own bringing. +Do not think it wasted time to submit yourselves to any influence which +may bring upon you any noble feeling. Rise early, always watch the +sunrise, and the way the clouds break from the dawn; you will cast your +statue-draperies in quite another than your common way, when the +remembrance of that cloud motion is with you, and of the scarlet +vesture of the morning. Live always in the springtime in the country; +you do not know what leaf-form means, unless you have seen the buds +burst, and the young leaves breathing low in the sunshine, and +wondering at the first shower of rain. But above all, accustom +yourselves to look for, and to love, all nobleness of gesture and +feature in the human form; and remember that the highest nobleness is +usually among the aged, the poor, and the infirm; you will find, in the +end, that it is not the strong arm of the soldier, nor the laugh of the +young beauty, that are the best studies for you. Look at them, and look +at them reverently; but be assured that endurance is nobler than +strength, and patience than beauty; and that it is not in the high +church pews, where the gay dresses are, but in the church free seats, +where the widows' weeds are, that you may see the faces that will fit +best between the angels' wings, in the church porch. + +III. And therefore, lastly, and chiefly, you must love the creatures to +whom you minister, your fellow-men; for, if you do not love them, not +only will you be little interested in the passing events of life, but +in all your gazing at humanity, you will be apt to be struck only by +outside form, and not by expression. It is only kindness and tenderness +which will ever enable you to see what beauty there is in the dark eyes +that are sunk with weeping, and in the paleness of those fixed faces +which the earth's adversity has compassed about, till they shine in +their patience like dying watchfires through twilight. But it is not +this only which makes it needful for you, if you would be great, to be +also kind; there is a most important and all-essential reason in the +very nature of your own art. So soon as you desire to build largely, +and with addition of noble sculpture, you will find that your work must +be associative. You cannot carve a whole cathedral yourself--you can +carve but few and simple parts of it. Either your own work must be +disgraced in the mass of the collateral inferiority, or you must raise +your fellow-designers to correspondence of power. If you have genius, +you will yourselves take the lead in the building you design; you will +carve its porch and direct its disposition. But for all subsequent +advancement of its detail, you must trust to the agency and the +invention of others; and it rests with you either to repress what +faculties your workmen have, into cunning subordination to your own; or +to rejoice in discovering even the powers that may rival you, and +leading forth mind after mind into fellowship with your fancy, and +association with your fame. + +I need not tell you that if you do the first--if you endeavour to +depress or disguise the talents of your subordinates--you are lost; for +nothing could imply more darkly and decisively than this, that your art +and your work were not beloved by you; that it was your own prosperity +that you were seeking, and your own skill only that you cared to +contemplate. I do not say that you must not be jealous at all; it is +rarely in human nature to be wholly without jealousy; and you may be +forgiven for going some day sadly home, when you find some youth, +unpractised and unapproved, giving the life-stroke to his work which +you, after years of training, perhaps, cannot reach; but your jealousy +must not conquer--your love of your building must conquer, helped by +your kindness of heart. See--I set no high or difficult standard before +you. I do not say that you are to surrender your pre-eminence in +_mere_ unselfish generosity. But I do say that you must surrender +your pre-eminence in your love of your building helped by your +kindness; and that whomsoever you find better able to do what will +adorn it than you,--that person you are to give place to; and to +console yourselves for the humiliation, first, by your joy in seeing +the edifice grow more beautiful under his chisel, and secondly, by your +sense of having done kindly and justly. But if you are morally strong +enough to make the kindness and justice the first motive, it will be +better;--best of all, if you do not consider it as kindness at all, but +bare and stern justice; for, truly, such help as we can give each other +in this world is a _debt_ to each other; and the man who perceives +a superiority or a capacity in a subordinate, and neither confesses, +nor assists it, is not merely the withholder of kindness, but the +committer of injury. But be the motive what you will, only see that you +do the thing; and take the joy of the consciousness that, as your art +embraces a wider field than all others--and addresses a vaster +multitude than all others--and is surer of audience than all others--so +it is profounder and holier in Fellowship than all others. The artist, +when his pupil is perfect, must see him leave his side that he may +declare his distinct, perhaps opponent, skill. Man of science wrestles +with man of science for priority of discovery, and pursues in pangs of +jealous haste his solitary inquiry. You alone are called by kindness,-- +by necessity,--by equity, to fraternity of toil; and thus, in those +misty and massive piles which rise above the domestic roofs of our +ancient cities, there was--there may be again--a meaning more profound +and true than any that fancy so commonly has attached to them. Men say +their pinnacles point to heaven. Why, so does every tree that buds, and +every bird that rises as it sings. Men say their aisles are good for +worship. Why, so is every mountain glen, and rough sea-shore. But this +they have of distinct and indisputable glory,--that their mighty walls +were never raised, and never shall be, but by men who love and aid each +other in their weakness;--that all their interlacing strength of +vaulted stone has its foundation upon the stronger arches of manly +fellowship, and all their changing grace of depressed or lifted +pinnacle owes its cadence and completeness to sweeter symmetries of +human soul. + + + + +LECTURE V. + +THE WORK OP IRON, IN NATURE, ART, AND POLICY. + +_A Lecture Delivered at Tunbridge Wells, February, 1858._ + + +When first I heard that you wished me to address you this evening, it +was a matter of some doubt with me whether I could find any subject +that would possess any sufficient interest for you to justify my +bringing you out of your comfortable houses on a winter's night. When I +venture to speak about my own special business of art, it is almost +always before students of art, among whom I may sometimes permit myself +to be dull, if I can feel that I am useful: but a mere talk about art, +especially without examples to refer to (and I have been unable to +prepare any careful illustrations for this lecture), is seldom of much +interest to a general audience. As I was considering what you might +best bear with me in speaking about, there came naturally into my mind +a subject connected with the origin and present prosperity of the town +you live in; and, it seemed to me, in the out-branchings of it, capable +of a very general interest. When, long ago (I am afraid to think how +long), Tunbridge Wells was my Switzerland, and I used to be brought +down here in the summer, a sufficiently active child, rejoicing in the +hope of clambering sandstone cliffs of stupendous height above the +common, there used sometimes, as, I suppose, there are in the lives of +all children at the Wells, to be dark days in my life--days of +condemnation to the pantiles and band--under which calamities my only +consolation used to be in watching, at every turn in my walk, the +welling forth of the spring over the orange rim of its marble basin. +The memory of the clear water, sparkling over its saffron stain, came +back to me as the strongest image connected with the place; and it +struck me that you might not be unwilling, to-night, to think a little +over the full significance of that saffron stain, and of the power, in +other ways and other functions, of the steelly element to which so many +here owe returning strength and life;--chief as it has been always, and +is yet more and more markedly so day by day, among the precious gifts +of the earth. + +The subject is, of course, too wide to be more than suggestively +treated; and even my suggestions must be few, and drawn chiefly from my +own fields of work; nevertheless, I think I shall have time to indicate +some courses of thought which you may afterwards follow out for +yourselves if they interest you; and so I will not shrink from the full +scope of the subject which I have announced to you--the functions of +Iron, in Nature, Art, and Policy. + +Without more preface, I will take up the first head. + +I. IRON IN NATURE.--You all probably know that the ochreous stain, +which, perhaps, is often thought to spoil the basin of your spring, is +iron in a state of rust: and when you see rusty iron in other places +you generally think, not only that it spoils the places it stains, but +that it is spoiled itself--that rusty iron is spoiled iron. + +For most of our uses it generally is so; and because we cannot use a +rusty knife or razor so well as a polished one, we suppose it to be a +great defect in iron that it is subject to rust. But not at all. On the +contrary, the most perfect and useful state of it is that ochreous +stain; and therefore it is endowed with so ready a disposition to get +itself into that state. It is not a fault in the iron, but a virtue, to +be so fond of getting rusted, for in that condition it fulfils its most +important functions in the universe, and most kindly duties to mankind. +Nay, in a certain sense, and almost a literal one, we may say that iron +rusted is Living; but when pure or polished, Dead. You all probably +know that in the mixed air we breathe, the part of it essentially +needful to us is called oxygen; and that this substance is to all +animals, in the most accurate sense of the word, "breath of life." The +nervous power of life is a different thing; but the supporting element +of the breath, without which the blood, and therefore the life, cannot +be nourished, is this oxygen. Now it is this very same air which the +iron breathes when it gets rusty. It takes the oxygen from the +atmosphere as eagerly as we do, though it uses it differently. The iron +keeps all that it gets; we, and other animals, part with it again; but +the metal absolutely keeps what it has once received of this aerial +gift; and the ochreous dust which we so much despise is, in fact, just +so much nobler than pure iron, in so far as it is _iron and the +air._ Nobler, and more useful--for, indeed, as I shall be able to +show you presently--the main service of this metal, and of all other +metals, to us, is not in making knives, and scissors, and pokers, and +pans, but in making the ground we feed from, and nearly all the +substances first needful to our existence. For these are all nothing +but metals and oxygen--metals with breath put into them. Sand, lime, +clay, and the rest of the earths--potash and soda, and the rest of the +alkalies--are all of them metals which have undergone this, so to +speak, vital change, and have been rendered fit for the service of man +by permanent unity with the purest air which he himself breathes. There +is only one metal which does not rust readily; and that, in its +influence on Man hitherto, has caused Death rather than Life; it will +not be put to its right use till it is made a pavement of, and so +trodden under foot. + +Is there not something striking in this fact, considered largely as one +of the types, or lessons, furnished by the inanimate creation? Here you +have your hard, bright, cold, lifeless metal--good enough for swords +and scissors--but not for food. You think, perhaps, that your iron is +wonderfully useful in a pure form, but how would you like the world, if +all your meadows, instead of grass, grew nothing but iron wire--if all +your arable ground, instead of being made of sand and clay, were +suddenly turned into flat surfaces of steel--if the whole earth, +instead of its green and glowing sphere, rich with forest and flower, +showed nothing but the image of the vast furnace of a ghastly engine--a +globe of black, lifeless, excoriated metal? It would be that,--probably +it was once that; but assuredly it would be, were it not that all the +substance of which it is made sucks and breathes the brilliancy of the +atmosphere; and as it breathes, softening from its merciless hardness, +it falls into fruitful and beneficent dust; gathering itself again into +the earths from which we feed, and the stones with which we build;-- +into the rocks that frame the mountains, and the sands that bind the +sea. + +Hence, it is impossible for you to take up the most insignificant +pebble at your feet, without being able to read, if you like, this +curious lesson in it. You look upon it at first as if it were earth +only. Nay, it answers, "I am not earth--I am earth and air in one; part +of that blue heaven which you love, and long for, is already in me; it +is all my life--without it I should be nothing, and able for nothing; I +could not minister to you, nor nourish you--I should be a cruel and +helpless thing; but, because there is, according to my need and place +in creation, a kind of soul in me, I have become capable of good, and +helpful in the circles of vitality." + +Thus far the same interest attaches to all the earths, and all the +metals of which they are made; but a deeper interest, and larger +beneficence belong to that ochreous earth of iron which stains the +marble of your springs. It stains much besides that marble. It stains +the great earth wheresoever you can see it, far and wide--it is the +colouring substance appointed to colour the globe for the sight, as +well as subdue it to the service of man. You have just seen your hills +covered with snow, and, perhaps, have enjoyed, at first, the contrast +of their fair white with the dark blocks of pine woods; but have you +ever considered how you would like them always white--not pure white, +but dirty white--the white of thaw, with all the chill of snow in it, +but none of its brightness? That is what the colour of the earth would +be without its iron; that would be its colour, not here or there only, +but in all places, and at all times. Follow out that idea till you get +it in some detail. Think first of your pretty gravel walks in your +gardens, yellow and fine, like plots of sunshine between the flower- +beds; fancy them all suddenly turned to the colour of ashes. That is +what they would be without iron ochre. Think of your winding walks over +the common, as warm to the eye as they are dry to the foot, and imagine +them all laid down suddenly with gray cinders. Then pass beyond the +common into the country, and pause at the first ploughed field that you +see sweeping up the hill sides in the sun, with its deep brown furrows, +and wealth of ridges all a-glow, heaved aside by the ploughshare, like +deep folds of a mantle of russet velvet--fancy it all changed suddenly +into grisly furrows in a field of mud. That is what it would be without +iron. Pass on, in fancy, over hill and dale, till you reach the bending +line of the sea shore; go down upon its breezy beach--watch the white +foam flashing among the amber of it, and all the blue sea embayed in +belts of gold: then fancy those circlets of far sweeping shore suddenly +put into mounds of mourning--all those golden sands turned into gray +slime, the fairies no more able to call to each other, "Come unto these +yellow sands;" but, "Come unto these drab sands." That is what they +would be, without iron. + +Iron is in some sort, therefore, the sunshine and light of landscape, +so far as that light depends on the ground; but it is a source of +another kind of sunshine, quite as important to us in the way we live +at present--sunshine, not of landscape, but of dwelling-place. + +In these days of swift locomotion I may doubtless assume that most of +my audience have been somewhere out of England--have been in Scotland, +or France, or Switzerland. Whatever may have been their impression, on +returning to their own country, of its superiority or inferiority in +other respects, they cannot but have felt one thing about it--the +comfortable look of its towns and villages. Foreign towns are often +very picturesque, very beautiful, but they never have quite that look +of warm self-sufficiency and wholesome quiet, with which our villages +nestle themselves down among the green fields. If you will take the +trouble to examine into the sources of this impression, you will find +that by far the greater part of that warm and satisfactory appearance +depends upon the rich scarlet colour of the bricks and tiles. It does +not belong to the neat building--very neat building has an +uncomfortable rather than a comfortable look--but it depends on the +_warm_ building; our villages are dressed in red tiles as our old +women are in red cloaks; and it does not matter how worn the cloaks, or +how bent and bowed the roof may be, so long as there are no holes in +either one or the other, and the sobered but unextinguishable colour +still glows in the shadow of the hood, and burns among the green mosses +of the gable. And what do you suppose dyes your tiles of cottage roof? +You don't paint them. It is nature who puts all that lovely vermilion +into the clay for you; and all that lovely vermilion is this oxide of +iron. Think, therefore, what your streets of towns would become--ugly +enough, indeed, already, some of them, but still comfortable-looking-- +if instead of that warm brick red, the houses became all pepper-and- +salt colour. Fancy your country villages changing from that homely +scarlet of theirs which, in its sweet suggestion of laborious peace, is +as honourable as the soldiers' scarlet of laborious battle--suppose all +those cottage roofs, I say, turned at once into the colour of unbaked +clay, the colour of street gutters in rainy weather. That's what they +would be, without iron. + +There is, however, yet another effect of colour in our English country +towns which, perhaps, you may not all yourselves have noticed, but for +which you must take the word of a sketcher. They are not so often +merely warm scarlet as they are warm purple;--a more beautiful colour +still: and they owe this colour to a mingling with the vermilion of the +deep grayish or purple hue of our fine Welsh slates on the more +respectable roofs, made more blue still by the colour of intervening +atmosphere. If you examine one of these Welsh slates freshly broken, +you will find its purple colour clear and vivid; and although never +strikingly so after it has been long exposed to weather, it always +retains enough of the tint to give rich harmonies of distant purple in +opposition to the green of our woods and fields. Whatever brightness or +power there is in the hue is entirely owing to the oxide of iron. +Without it the slates would either be pale stone colour, or cold gray, +or black. + +Thus far we have only been considering the use and pleasantness of iron +in the common earth of clay. But there are three kinds of earth which +in mixed mass and prevalent quantity, form the world. Those are, in +common language, the earths of clay, of lime, and of flint. Many other +elements are mingled with these in sparing quantities; but the great +frame and substance of the earth is made of these three, so that +wherever you stand on solid ground, in any country of the globe, the +thing that is mainly under your feet will be either clay, limestone, or +some condition of the earth of flint, mingled with both. + +These being what we have usually to deal with, Nature seems to have set +herself to make these three substances as interesting to us, and as +beautiful for us, as she can. The clay, being a soft and changeable +substance, she doesn't take much pains about, as we have seen, till it +is baked; she brings the colour into it only when it receives a +permanent form. But the limestone and flint she paints, in her own way, +in their native state: and her object in painting them seems to be much +the same as in her painting of flowers; to draw us, careless and idle +human creatures, to watch her a little, and see what she is about--that +being on the whole good for us,--her children. For Nature is always +carrying on very strange work with this limestone and flint of hers: +laying down beds of them at the bottom of the sea; building islands out +of the sea; filling chinks and veins in mountains with curious +treasures; petrifying mosses, and trees, and shells; in fact, carrying +on all sorts of business, subterranean or submarine, which it would be +highly desirable for us, who profit and live by it, to notice as it +goes on. And apparently to lead us to do this, she makes picture-books +for us of limestone and flint; and tempts us, like foolish children as +we are, to read her books by the pretty colours in them. The pretty +colours in her limestone-books form those variegated marbles which all +mankind have taken delight to polish and build with from the beginning +of time; and the pretty colours in her flint-books form those agates, +jaspers, cornelians, bloodstones, onyxes, cairngorms, chrysoprases, +which men have in like manner taken delight to cut, and polish, and +make ornaments of, from the beginning of time; and yet, so much of +babies are they, and so fond of looking at the pictures instead of +reading the book, that I question whether, after six thousand years of +cutting and polishing, there are above two or three people out of any +given hundred, who know, or care to know, how a bit of agate or a bit +of marble was made, or painted. + +How it was made, may not be always very easy to say; but with what it +was painted there is no manner of question. All those beautiful violet +veinings and variegations of the marbles of Sicily and Spain, the +glowing orange and amber colours of those of Siena, the deep russet of +the Rosso antico, and the blood-colour of all the precious jaspers that +enrich the temples of Italy; and, finally, all the lovely transitions +of tint in the pebbles of Scotland and the Rhine, which form, though +not the most precious, by far the most interesting portion of our +modern jewellers' work;--all these are painted by nature with this one +material only, variously proportioned and applied--the oxide of iron +that stains your Tunbridge springs. + +But this is not all, nor the best part of the work of iron. Its service +in producing these beautiful stones is only rendered to rich people, +who can afford to quarry and polish them. But Nature paints for all the +world, poor and rich together: and while, therefore, she thus adorns +the innermost rocks of her hills, to tempt your investigation, or +indulge your luxury,--she paints, far more carefully, the outsides of +the hills, which are for the eyes of the shepherd and the ploughman. I +spoke just now of the effect in the roofs of our villages of their +purple slates: but if the slates are beautiful even in their flat and +formal rows on house-roofs, much more are they beautiful on the rugged +crests and flanks of their native mountains. Have you ever considered, +in speaking as we do so often of distant blue hills, what it is that +makes them blue? To a certain extent it is distance; but distance alone +will not do it. Many hills look white, however distant. That lovely +dark purple colour of our Welsh and Highland hills is owing, not to +their distance merely, but to their rocks. Some of their rocks are, +indeed, too dark to be beautiful, being black or ashy gray; owing to +imperfect and porous structure. But when you see this dark colour +dashed with russet and blue, and coming out in masses among the green +ferns, so purple that you can hardly tell at first whether it is rock +or heather, then you must thank your old Tunbridge friend, the oxide of +iron. + +But this is not all. It is necessary for the beauty of hill scenery +that Nature should colour not only her soft rocks, but her hard ones; +and she colours them with the same thing, only more beautifully. +Perhaps you have wondered at my use of the word "purple," so often of +stones; but the Greeks, and still more the Romans, who had profound +respect for purple, used it of stone long ago. You have all heard of +"porphyry" as among the most precious of the harder massive stones. The +colour which gave it that noble name, as well as that which gives the +flush to all the rosy granite of Egypt--yes, and to the rosiest summits +of the Alps themselves--is still owing to the same substance--your +humble oxide of iron. + +And last of all: + +A nobler colour than all these--the noblest colour ever seen on this +earth--one which belongs to a strength greater than that of the +Egyptian granite, and to a beauty greater than that of the sunset or +the rose--is still mysteriously connected with the presence of this +dark iron. I believe it is not ascertained on what the crimson of blood +actually depends; but the colour is connected, of course, with its +vitality, and that vitality with the existence of iron as one of its +substantial elements. + +Is it not strange to find this stern and strong metal mingled so +delicately in our human life, that we cannot even blush without its +help? Think of it, my fair and gentle hearers; how terrible the +alternative--sometimes you have actually no choice but to be brazen- +faced, or iron-faced! + +In this slight review of some of the functions of the metal, you +observe that I confine myself strictly to its operations as a colouring +element. I should only confuse your conception of the facts, if I +endeavoured to describe its uses as a substantial element, either in +strengthening rocks, or influencing vegetation by the decomposition of +rocks. I have not, therefore, even glanced at any of the more serious +uses of the metal in the economy of nature. But what I wish you to +carry clearly away with you is the remembrance that in all these uses +the metal would be nothing without the air. The pure metal has no +power, and never occurs in nature at all except in meteoric stones, +whose fall no one can account for, and which are useless after they +have fallen: in the necessary work of the world, the iron is invariably +joined with the oxygen, and would be capable of no service or beauty +whatever without it. + +II. IRON IN ART.--Passing, then, from the offices of the metal in the +operations of nature to its uses in the hands of man, you must +remember, in the outset, that the type which has been thus given you, +by the lifeless metal, of the action of body and soul together, has +noble antitype in the operation of all human power. All art worthy the +name is the energy--neither of the human body alone, nor of the human +soul alone, but of both united, one guiding the other: good +craftsmanship and work of the fingers, joined with good emotion and +work of the heart. + +There is no good art, nor possible judgment of art, when these two are +not united; yet we are constantly trying to separate them. Our amateurs +cannot be persuaded but that they may produce some kind of art by their +fancy or sensibility, without going through the necessary manual toil. +That is entirely hopeless. Without a certain number, and that a very +great number, of steady acts of hand--a practice as careful and +constant as would be necessary to learn any other manual business--no +drawing is possible. On the other side, the workman, and those who +employ him, are continually trying to produce art by trick or habit of +fingers, without using their fancy or sensibility. That also is +hopeless. Without mingling of heart-passion with hand-power, no art is +possible. [Footnote: No fine art, that is. See the previous definition +of fine art at p. 38.] The highest art unites both in their intensest +degrees: the action of the hand at its finest, with that of the heart +at its fullest. + +Hence it follows that the utmost power of art can only be given in a +material capable of receiving and retaining the influence of the +subtlest touch of the human hand. That hand is the most perfect agent +of material power existing in the universe; and its full subtlety can +only be shown when the material it works on, or with, is entirely +yielding. The chords of a perfect instrument will receive it, but not +of an imperfect one; the softly bending point of the hair pencil, and +soft melting of colour, will receive it, but not even the chalk or pen +point, still less the steel point, chisel, or marble. The hand of a +sculptor may, indeed, be as subtle as that of a painter, but all its +subtlety is not bestowable nor expressible: the touch of Titian, +Correggio, or Turner, [Footnote: See Appendix IV., "Subtlety of Hand."] +is a far more marvellous piece of nervous action than can be shown in +anything but colour, or in the very highest conditions of executive +expression in music. In proportion as the material worked upon is less +delicate, the execution necessarily becomes lower, and the art with it. +This is one main principle of all work. Another is, that whatever the +material you choose to work with, your art is base if it does not bring +out the distinctive qualities of that material. + +The reason of this second law is, that if you don't want the qualities +of the substance you use, you ought to use some other substance: it can +be only affectation, and desire to display your skill, that lead you to +employ a refractory substance, and therefore your art will all be base. +Glass, for instance, is eminently, in its nature, transparent. If you +don't want transparency, let the glass alone. Do not try to make a +window look like an opaque picture, but take an opaque ground to begin +with. Again, marble is eminently a solid and massive substance. Unless +you want mass and solidity, don't work in marble. If you wish for +lightness, take wood; if for freedom, take stucco; if for ductility, +take glass. Don't try to carve leathers, or trees, or nets, or foam, +out of marble. Carve white limbs and broad breasts only out of that. + +So again, iron is eminently a ductile and tenacious substance-- +tenacious above all things, ductile more than most. When you want +tenacity, therefore, and involved form, take iron. It is eminently made +for that. It is the material given to the sculptor as the companion of +marble, with a message, as plain as it can well be spoken, from the +lips of the earth-mother, "Here's for you to cut, and here's for you to +hammer. Shape this, and twist that. What is solid and simple, carve +out; what is thin and entangled, beat out. I give you all kinds of +forms to be delighted in;--fluttering leaves as well as fair bodies; +twisted branches as well as open brows. The leaf and the branch you may +beat and drag into their imagery: the body and brow you shall +reverently touch into their imagery. And if you choose rightly and work +rightly, what you do shall be safe afterwards. Your slender leaves +shall not break off in my tenacious iron, though they may be rusted a +little with an iron autumn. Your broad surfaces shall not be unsmoothed +in my pure crystalline marble--no decay shall touch them. But if you +carve in the marble what will break with a touch, or mould in the metal +what a stain of rust or verdigris will spoil, it is your fault--not +mine." + +These are the main principles in this matter; which, like nearly all +other right principles in art, we moderns delight in contradicting as +directly and specially as may be. We continually look for, and praise, +in our exhibitions the sculpture of veils, and lace, and thin leaves, +and all kinds of impossible things pushed as far as possible in the +fragile stone, for the sake of showing the sculptor's dexterity. +[Footnote: I do not mean to attach any degree of blame to the effort to +represent leafage in marble for certain expressive purposes. The later +works of Mr. Munro have depended for some of their most tender thoughts +on a delicate and skilful use of such accessories. And in general, leaf +sculpture is good and admirable, if it renders, as in Gothic work, the +grace and lightness of the leaf by the arrangement of light and shadow +--supporting the masses well by strength of stone below; but all carving +is base which proposes to itself _slightness_ as an aim, and tries +to imitate the absolute thinness of thin or slight things, as much +modern wood carving does, I saw in Italy, a year or two ago, a marble +sculpture of birds' nests.] On the other hand, we _cast_ our iron +into bars--brittle, though an inch thick--sharpen them at the ends, +and consider fences, and other work, made of such materials, +decorative! I do not believe it would be easy to calculate the amount +of mischief done to our taste in England by that fence iron-work of +ours alone. If it were asked of us by a single characteristic, to +distinguish the dwellings of a country into two broad sections; and to +set, on one side, the places where people were, for the most part, +simple, happy, benevolent, and honest; and, on the other side, the +places where at least a great number of the people were sophisticated, +unkind, uncomfortable, and unprincipled, there is, I think, one feature +that you could fix upon as a positive test: the uncomfortable and +unprincipled parts of a country would be the parts where people lived +among iron railings, and the comfortable and principled parts where +they had none. A broad generalization, you will say! Perhaps a little +too broad; yet, in all sobriety, it will come truer than you think. +Consider every other kind of fence or defence, and you will find some +virtue in it; but in the iron railing none. There is, first, your +castle rampart of stone--somewhat too grand to be considered here among +our types of fencing; next, your garden or park wall of brick, which +has indeed often an unkind look on the outside, but there is more +modesty in it than unkindness. It generally means, not that the builder +of it wants to shut you out from the view of his garden, but from the +view of himself: it is a frank statement that as he needs a certain +portion of time to himself, so he needs a certain portion of ground to +himself, and must not be stared at when he digs there in his shirt- +sleeves, or plays at leapfrog with his boys from school, or talks over +old times with his wife, walking up and down in the evening sunshine. +Besides, the brick wall has good practical service in it, and shelters +you from the east wind, and ripens your peaches and nectarines, and +glows in autumn like a sunny bank. And, moreover, your brick wall, if +you build it properly, so that it shall stand long enough, is a +beautiful thing when it is old, and has assumed its grave purple red, +touched with mossy green. + +Next to your lordly wall, in dignity of enclosure, comes your close-set +wooden paling, which is more objectionable, because it commonly means +enclosure on a larger scale than people want. Still it is significative +of pleasant parks, and well-kept field walks, and herds of deer, and +other such aristocratic pastoralisms, which have here and there their +proper place in a country, and may be passed without any discredit. + +Next to your paling, comes your low stone dyke, your mountain fence, +indicative at a glance either of wild hill country, or of beds of stone +beneath the soil; the hedge of the mountains--delightful in all its +associations, and yet more in the varied and craggy forms of the loose +stones it is built of; and next to the low stone wall, your lowland +hedge, either in trim line of massive green, suggested of the +pleasances of old Elizabethan houses, and smooth alleys for aged feet, +and quaint labyrinths for young ones, or else in fair entanglement of +eglantine and virgin's bower, tossing its scented luxuriance along our +country waysides;--how many such you have here among your pretty hills, +fruitful with black clusters of the bramble for boys in autumn, and +crimson hawthorn berries for birds in winter. And then last, and most +difficult to class among fences, comes your handrail, expressive of all +sorts of things; sometimes having a knowing and vicious look, which it +learns at race-courses; sometimes an innocent and tender look, which it +learns at rustic bridges over cressy brooks; and sometimes a prudent +and protective look, which it learns on passes of the Alps, where it +has posts of granite and bars of pine, and guards the brows of cliffs +and the banks of torrents. So that in all these kinds of defence there +is some good, pleasant, or noble meaning. But what meaning has the iron +railing? Either, observe, that you are living in the midst of such bad +characters that you must keep them out by main force of bar, or that +you are yourself of a character requiring to be kept inside in the same +manner. Your iron railing always means thieves outside, or Bedlam +inside; it _can_ mean nothing else than that. If the people +outside were good for anything, a hint in the way of fence would be +enough for them; but because they are violent and at enmity with you, +you are forced to put the close bars and the spikes at the top. + +Last summer I was lodging for a little while in a cottage in the +country, and in front of my low window there were, first some beds of +daisies, then a row of gooseberry and currant bushes, and then a low +wall about three feet above the ground, covered with stone-cress. +Outside, a corn-field, with its green ears glistening in the sun, and a +field path through it, just past the garden gate. From my window I +could see every peasant of the village who passed that way, with basket +on arm for market, or spade on shoulder for field. When I was inclined +for society, I could lean over my wall, and talk to anybody; when I was +inclined for science, I could botanize all along the top of my wall-- +there were four species of stone-cress alone growing on it; and when I +was inclined for exercise, I could jump over my wall, backwards and +forwards. That's the sort of fence to have in a Christian country; not +a thing which you can't walk inside of without making yourself look +like a wild beast, nor look at out of your window in the morning +without expecting to see somebody impaled upon it in the night. + +And yet farther, observe that the iron railing is a useless fence--it +can shelter nothing, and support nothing; you can't nail your peaches +to it, nor protect your flowers with it, nor make anything whatever out +of its costly tyranny; and besides being useless, it is an insolent +fence;--it says plainly to everybody who passes--"You may be an honest +person,--but, also, you may be a thief: honest or not, you shall not +get in here, for I am a respectable person, and much above you; you +shall only see what a grand place I have got to keep you out of--look +here, and depart in humiliation." + +This, however, being in the present state of civilization a frequent +manner of discourse, and there being unfortunately many districts where +the iron railing is unavoidable, it yet remains a question whether you +need absolutely make it ugly, no less than significative of evil. You +must have railings round your squares in London, and at the sides of +your areas; but need you therefore have railings so ugly that the +constant sight of them is enough to neutralise the effect of all the +schools of art in the kingdom? You need not. Far from such necessity, +it is even in your power to turn all your police force of iron bars +actually into drawing masters, and natural historians. Not, of course, +without some trouble and some expense; you can do nothing much worth +doing, in this world, without trouble, you can get nothing much worth +having without expense. The main question is only--what is worth doing +and having:--Consider, therefore, if this be not. Here is your iron +railing, as yet, an uneducated monster; a sombre seneschal, incapable +of any words, except his perpetual "Keep out!" and "Away with you!" +Would it not be worth some trouble and cost to turn this ungainly +ruffian porter into a well-educated servant; who, while he was severe +as ever in forbidding entrance to evilly-disposed people, should yet +have a kind word for well-disposed people, and a pleasant look, and a +little useful information at his command, in case he should be asked a +question by the passers-by? + +We have not time to-night to look at many examples of ironwork; and +those I happen to have by me are not the best; ironwork is not one of +my special subjects of study; so that I only have memoranda of bits +that happened to come into picturesque subjects which I was drawing for +other reasons. Besides, external ironwork is more difficult to find +good than any other sort of ancient art; for when it gets rusty and +broken, people are sure, if they can afford it, to send it to the old +iron shop, and get a fine new grating instead; and in the great cities +of Italy, the old iron is thus nearly all gone: the best bits I +remember in the open air were at Brescia;--fantastic sprays of laurel- +like foliage rising over the garden gates; and there are a few fine +fragments at Verona, and some good trellis-work enclosing the Scala +tombs; but on the whole, the most interesting pieces, though by no +means the purest in style, are to be found in out-of-the-way provincial +towns, where people do not care, or are unable, to make polite +alterations. The little town of Bellinzona, for instance, on the south +of the Alps, and that of Sion on the north, have both of them complete +schools of ironwork in their balconies and vineyard gates. That of +Bellinzona is the best, though not very old--I suppose most of it of +the seventeenth century; still it is very quaint and beautiful. Here, +for example, are two balconies, from two different houses; one has been +a cardinal's, and the hat is the principal ornament of the balcony; its +tassels being wrought with delightful delicacy and freedom; and +catching the eye clearly even among the mass of rich wreathed leaves. +These tassels and strings are precisely the kind of subject fit for +ironwork--noble in ironwork, they would have been entirely ignoble in +marble, on the grounds above stated. The real plant of oleander +standing in the window enriches the whole group of lines very happily. + +The other balcony, from a very ordinary-looking house in the same +street, is much more interesting in its details. It is shown in the +plate as it appeared last summer, with convolvulus twined about the +bars, the arrow-shaped living leaves mingled among the leaves of iron; +but you may see in the centre of these real leaves a cluster of lighter +ones, which are those of the ironwork itself. This cluster is worth +giving a little larger to show its treatment. Fig. 2 (in Appendix V.) +is the front view of it: Fig. 4, its profile. It is composed of a large +tulip in the centre; then two turkscap lilies; then two pinks, a little +conventionalized; then two narcissi; then two nondescripts, or, at +least, flowers I do not know; and then two dark buds, and a few leaves. +I say, dark buds, for all these flowers have been coloured in their +original state. The plan of the group is exceedingly simple: it is all +enclosed in a pointed arch (Fig. 3, Appendix V.): the large mass of the +tulip forming the apex; a six-foiled star on each side; then a jagged +star; then a five-foiled star; then an unjagged star or rose; finally a +small bud, so as to establish relation and cadence through the whole +group. The profile is very free and fine, and the upper bar of the +balcony exceedingly beautiful in effect;--none the less so on account +of the marvellously simple means employed. A thin strip of iron is bent +over a square rod; out of the edge of this strip are cut a series of +triangular openings--widest at top, leaving projecting teeth of iron +(Appendix, Fig. 5); then each of these projecting pieces gets a little +sharp tap with the hammer in front, which beaks its edge inwards, +tearing it a little open at the same time, and the thing is done. + +The common forms of Swiss ironwork are less naturalistic than these +Italian balconies, depending more on beautiful arrangements of various +curve; nevertheless, there has been a rich naturalist school at +Fribourg, where a few bell-handles are still left, consisting of rods +branched into laurel and other leafage. At Geneva, modern improvements +have left nothing; but at Annecy, a little good work remains; the +balcony of its old hōtel de ville especially, with a trout of the lake +--presumably the town arms--forming its central ornament. + +I might expatiate all night--if you would sit and hear me--on the +treatment of such required subject, or introduction of pleasant caprice +by the old workmen; but we have no more time to spare, and I must quit +this part of our subject--the rather as I could not explain to you the +intrinsic merit of such ironwork without going fully into the theory of +curvilinear design; only let me leave with you this one distinct +assertion--that the quaint beauty and character of many natural +objects, such as intricate branches, grass, foliage (especially thorny +branches and prickly foliage), as well as that of many animals, plumed, +spined, or bristled, is sculpturally expressible in iron only, and in +iron would be majestic and impressive in the highest degree; and that +every piece of metal work you use might be, rightly treated, not only a +superb decoration, but a most valuable abstract of portions of natural +forms, holding in dignity precisely the same relation to the painted +representation of plants, that a statue does to the painted form of +man. It is difficult to give you an idea of the grace and interest +which the simplest objects possess when their forms are thus abstracted +from among the surrounding of rich circumstance which in nature +disturbs the feebleness of our attention. In Plate 2, a few blades of +common green grass, and a wild leaf or two--just as they were thrown by +nature,--are thus abstracted from the associated redundance of the +forms about them, and shown on a dark ground: every cluster of herbage +would furnish fifty such groups, and every such group would work into +iron (fitting it, of course, rightly to its service) with perfect ease, +and endless grandeur of result. + +III. IRON in POLICY.--Having thus obtained some idea of the use of iron +in art, as dependent on its ductility, I need not, certainly, say +anything of its uses in manufacture and commerce; we all of us know +enough,--perhaps a little too much--about _them_. So I pass lastly +to consider its uses in policy; dependent chiefly upon its tenacity-- +that is to say, on its power of bearing a pull, and receiving an edge. +These powers, which enable it to pierce, to bind, and to smite, render +it fit for the three great instruments, by which its political action +may be simply typified; namely, the Plough, the Fetter, and the Sword. + +On our understanding the right use of these three instruments, depend, +of course, all our power as a nation, and all our happiness as +individuals. + +I. THE PLOUGH.--I say, first, on our understanding the right use of the +plough, with which, in justice to the fairest of our labourers, we must +always associate that feminine plough--the needle. The first +requirement for the happiness of a nation is that it should understand +the function in this world of these two great instruments: a happy +nation may be defined as one in which the husband's hand is on the +plough, and the housewife's on the needle; so in due time reaping its +golden harvest, and shining in golden vesture: and an unhappy nation is +one which, acknowledging no use of plough nor needle, will assuredly at +last find its storehouse empty in the famine, and its breast naked to +the cold. + +Perhaps you think this is a mere truism, which I am wasting your time +in repeating. I wish it were. + +By far the greater part of the suffering and crime which exist at this +moment in civilized Europe, arises simply from people not understanding +this truism--not knowing that produce or wealth is eternally connected +by the laws of heaven and earth with resolute labour; but hoping in +some way to cheat or abrogate this everlasting law of life, and to feed +where they have not furrowed, and be warm where they have not woven. + +I repeat, nearly all our misery and crime result from this one +misapprehension. The law of nature is, that a certain quantity of work +is necessary to produce a certain quantity of good, of any kind +whatever. If you want knowledge, you must toil for it: if food, you +must toil for it; and if pleasure, you must toil for it. But men do not +acknowledge this law, or strive to evade it, hoping to get their +knowledge, and food, and pleasure for nothing; and in this effort they +either fail of getting them, and remain ignorant and miserable, or they +obtain them by making other men work for their benefit; and then they +are tyrants and robbers. Yes, and worse than robbers. I am not one who +in the least doubts or disputes the progress of this century in many +things useful to mankind; but it seems to me a very dark sign +respecting us that we look with so much indifference upon dishonesty +and cruelty in the pursuit of wealth. In the dream of Nebuchadnezzar it +was only the _feet_ that were part of iron and part of clay; but +many of us are now getting so cruel in our avarice, that it seems as +if, in us, the _heart_ were part of iron, and part of clay. + +From what I have heard of the inhabitants of this town, I do not doubt +but that I may be permitted to do here what I have found it usually +thought elsewhere highly improper and absurd to do, namely, trace a few +Bible sentences to their practical result. + +You cannot but have noticed how often in those parts of the Bible which +are likely to be oftenest opened when people look for guidance, +comfort, or help in the affairs of daily life, namely, the Psalms and +Proverbs, mention is made of the guilt attaching to the +_Oppression_ of the poor. Observe: not the neglect of them, but +the _Oppression_ of them: the word is as frequent as it is +strange. You can hardly open either of those books, but somewhere in +their pages you will find a description of the wicked man's attempts +against the poor: such as--"He doth ravish the poor when he getteth him +into his net." + +"He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages; his eyes are privily +set against the poor." + +"In his pride he doth persecute the poor, and blesseth the covetous, +whom God abhorreth." + +"His mouth is full of deceit and fraud; in the secret places doth he +murder the innocent. Have the workers of iniquity no knowledge, who eat +up my people as they eat bread? They have drawn out the sword, and bent +the bow, to cast down the poor and needy." + +"They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression." + +"Pride compasseth them about as a chain, and violence as a garment." + +"Their poison is like the poison of a serpent. Ye weigh the violence of +your hands in the earth." + +Yes: "Ye weigh the violence of your hands:"--weigh these words as well. +The last things we ever usually think of weighing are Bible words. We +like to dream and dispute over them; but to weigh them, and see what +their true contents are--anything but that. Yet, weigh these; for I +have purposely taken all these verses, perhaps more striking to you +read in this connection, than separately in their places, out of the +Psalms, because, for all people belonging to the Established Church of +this country these Psalms are appointed lessons, portioned out to them +by their clergy to be read once through every month. Presumably, +therefore, whatever portions of Scripture we may pass by or forget, +these at all events, must be brought continually to our observance as +useful for direction of daily life. Now, do we ever ask ourselves what +the real meaning of these passages may be, and who these wicked people +are, who are "murdering the innocent?" You know it is rather singular +language this!--rather strong language, we might, perhaps, call it-- +hearing it for the first time. Murder! and murder of innocent people!-- +nay, even a sort of cannibalism. Eating people,--yes, and God's people, +too--eating _My_ people as if they were bread! swords drawn, bows +bent, poison of serpents mixed! violence of hands weighed, measured, +and trafficked with as so much coin! where is all this going on? Do you +suppose it was only going on in the time of David, and that nobody but +Jews ever murder the poor? If so, it would surely be wiser not to +mutter and mumble for our daily lessons what does not concern us; but +if there be any chance that it may concern us, and if this description, +in the Psalms, of human guilt is at all generally applicable, as the +descriptions in the Psalms of human sorrow are, may it not be advisable +to know wherein this guilt is being committed round about us, or by +ourselves? and when we take the words of the Bible into our mouths in a +congregational way, to be sure whether we mean merely to chant a piece +of melodious poetry relating to other people--(we know not exactly to +whom)--or to assert our belief in facts bearing somewhat stringently on +ourselves and our daily business. And if you make up your minds to do +this no longer, and take pains to examine into the matter, you will +find that these strange words, occurring as they do, not in a few +places only, but almost in every alternate psalm and every alternate +chapter of proverb, or prophecy, with tremendous reiteration, were not +written for one nation or one time only; but for all nations and +languages, for all places and all centuries; and it is as true of the +wicked man now as ever it was of Nabal or Dives, that "his eyes are set +against the poor." + +Set _against_ the poor, mind you. Not merely set _away_ from +the poor, so as to neglect or lose sight of them, but set against, so +as to afflict and destroy them. This is the main point I want to fix. +your attention upon. You will often hear sermons about neglect or +carelessness of the poor. But neglect and carelessness are not at all +the points. The Bible hardly ever talks about neglect of the poor. It +always talks of _oppression_ of the poor--a very different matter. +It does not merely speak of passing by on the other side, and binding +up no wounds, but of drawing the sword and ourselves smiting the men +down. It does not charge us with being idle in the pest-house, and +giving no medicine, but with being busy in the pest-house, and giving +much poison. + +May we not advisedly look into this matter a little, even tonight, and +ask first, Who are these poor? + +No country is, or ever will be, without them: that is to say, without +the class which cannot, on the average, do more by its labour than +provide for its subsistence, and which has no accumulations of property +laid by on any considerable scale. Now there are a certain number of +this class whom we cannot oppress with much severity. An able-bodied +and intelligent workman--sober, honest, and industrious, will almost +always command a fair price for his work, and lay by enough in a few +years to enable him to hold his own in the labour market. But all men +are not able-bodied, nor intelligent, nor industrious; and you cannot +expect them to be. Nothing appears to me at once more ludicrous and +more melancholy than the way the people of the present age usually talk +about the morals of labourers. You hardly ever address a labouring man +upon his prospects in life, without quietly assuming that he is to +possess, at starting, as a small moral capital to begin with, the +virtue of Socrates, the philosophy of Plato, and the heroism of +Epaminondas. "Be assured, my good man,"--you say to him,--"that if you +work steadily for ten hours a day all your life long, and if you drink +nothing but water, or the very mildest beer, and live on very plain +food, and never lose your temper, and go to church every Sunday, and +always remain content in the position in which Providence has placed +you, and never grumble nor swear; and always keep your clothes decent, +and rise early, and use every opportunity of improving yourself, you +will get on very well, and never come to the parish." + +All this is exceedingly true; but before giving the advice so +confidently, it would be well if we sometimes tried it practically +ourselves, and spent a year or so at some hard manual labour, not of an +entertaining kind--ploughing or digging, for instance, with a very +moderate allowance of beer; nothing hut bread and cheese for dinner; no +papers nor muffins in the morning; no sofas nor magazines at night; one +small room for parlour and kitchen; and a large family of children +always in the middle of the floor. If we think we could, under these +circumstances, enact Socrates or Epaminondas entirely to our own +satisfaction, we shall be somewhat justified in requiring the same +behaviour from our poorer neighbours; but if not, we should surely +consider a little whether among the various forms of the oppression of +the poor, we may not rank as one of the first and likeliest--the +oppression of expecting too much from them. + +But let this pass; and let it be admitted that we can never be guilty +of oppression towards the sober, industrious, intelligent, exemplary +labourer. There will always be in the world some who are not +altogether, intelligent and exemplary; we shall, I believe, to the end +of time find the majority somewhat unintelligent, a little inclined to +be idle, and occasionally, on Saturday night, drunk; we must even be +prepared to hear of reprobates who like skittles on Sunday morning +better than prayers; and of unnatural parents who send their children +out to beg instead of to go to school. + +Now these are the kind of people whom you _can_ oppress, and whom +you do oppress, and that to purpose,--and with all the more cruelty and +the greater sting, because it is just their own fault that puts them +into your power. You know the words about wicked people are, "He doth +ravish the poor when he getteth him _into his net_." This getting +into the net is constantly the fault or folly of the sufferer--his own +heedlessness or his own indolence; but after he is once in the net, the +oppression of him, and making the most of his distress, are ours. The +nets which we use against the poor are just those worldly +embarrassments which either their ignorance or their improvidence are +almost certain at some time or other to bring them into: then, just at +the time when we ought to hasten to help them, and disentangle them, +and teach them how to manage better in future, we rush forward to +_pillage_ them, and force all we can out of them in their +adversity. For, to take one instance only, remember this is literally +and simply what we do, whenever we buy, or try to buy, cheap goods-- +goods offered at a price which we know cannot be remunerative for the +labour involved in them. Whenever we buy such goods, remember we are +stealing somebody's labour. Don't let us mince the matter. I say, in +plain Saxon, STEALING--taking from him the proper reward of his work, +and putting it into our own pocket. You know well enough that the thing +could not have been offered you at that price, unless distress of some +kind had forced the producer to part with it. You take advantage of +this distress, and you force as much out of him as you can under the +circumstances. The old barons of the middle ages used, in general, the +thumbscrew to extort property; we moderns use, in preference, hunger or +domestic affliction: but the fact of extortion remains precisely the +same. Whether we force the man's property from him by pinching his +stomach, or pinching his fingers, makes some difference anatomically;-- +morally, none whatsoever: we use a form of torture of some sort in +order to make him give up his property; we use, indeed, the man's own +anxieties, instead of the rack; and his immediate peril of starvation, +instead of the pistol at the head; but otherwise we differ from Front +de Buf, or Dick Turpin, merely in being less dexterous, more cowardly, +and more cruel. More cruel, I say, because the fierce baron and the +redoubted highwayman are reported to have robbed, at least by +preference, only the rich; _we_ steal habitually from the poor. We +buy our liveries, and gild our prayer-books, with pilfered pence out of +children's and sick men's wages, and thus ingeniously dispose a given +quantity of Theft, so that it may produce the largest possible measure +of delicately distributed suffering. + +But this is only one form of common oppression of the poor--only one +way of taking our hands off the plough handle, and binding another's +upon it. This first way of doing it is the economical way--the way +preferred by prudent and virtuous people. The bolder way is the +acquisitive way:--the way of speculation. You know we are considering +at present the various modes in which a nation corrupts itself, by not +acknowledging the eternal connection between its plough and its +pleasure;--by striving to get pleasure, without working for it. Well, I +say the first and commonest way of doing so is to try to get the +product of other people's work, and enjoy it ourselves, by cheapening +their labour in times of distress: then the second way is that grand +one of watching the chances of the market;--the way of speculation. Of +course there are some speculations that are fair and honest-- +speculations made with our own money, and which do not involve in their +success the loss, by others, of what we gain. But generally modern +speculation involves much risk to others, with chance of profit only to +ourselves: even in its best conditions it is merely one of the forms of +gambling or treasure hunting; it is either leaving the steady plough +and the steady pilgrimage of life, to look for silver mines beside the +way; or else it is the full stop beside the dice-tables in Vanity Fair +--investing all the thoughts and passions of the soul in the fall of the +cards, and choosing rather the wild accidents of idle fortune than the +calm and accumulative rewards of toil. And this is destructive enough, +at least to our peace and virtue. But is usually destructive of far +more than _our_ peace, or _our_ virtue. Have you ever deliberately set +yourselves to imagine and measure the suffering, the guilt, and the +mortality caused necessarily by the failure of any large-dealing merchant, +or largely-branched bank? Take it at the lowest possible supposition- +count, at the fewest you choose, the families whose means of support have +been involved in the catastrophe. Then, on the morning after the intelli- +gence of ruin, let us go forth amongst them in earnest thought; let us use +that imagination which we waste so often on fictitious sorrow, to measure +the stern facts of that multitudinous distress; strike open the private +doors of their chambers, and enter silently into the midst of the domestic +misery; look upon the old men, who had reserved for their failing strength +some remainder of rest in the evening-tide of life, cast helplessly back +into its trouble and tumult; look upon the active strength of middle +age suddenly blasted into incapacity--its hopes crushed, and its hardly +earned rewards snatched away in the same instant--at once the heart +withered, and the right arm snapped; look upon the piteous children, +delicately nurtured, whose soft eyes, now large with wonder at their +parents' grief, must soon be set in the dimness of famine; and, far +more than all this, look forward to the length of sorrow beyond--to the +hardest labour of life, now to be undergone either in all the severity +of unexpected and inexperienced trial, or else, more bitter still, to +be begun again, and endured for the second time, amidst the ruins of +cherished hopes and the feebleness of advancing years, embittered by +the continual sting and taunt of the inner feeling that it has all been +brought about, not by the fair course of appointed circumstance, but by +miserable chance and wanton treachery; and, last of all, look beyond +this--to the shattered destinies of those who have faltered under the +trial, and sunk past recovery to despair. And then consider whether the +hand which has poured this poison into all the springs of life be one +whit less guiltily red with human blood than that which literally pours +the hemlock into the cup, or guides the dagger to the heart? We read +with horror of the crimes of a Borgia or a Tophana; but there never +lived Borgias such as live now in the midst of us. The cruel lady of +Ferrara slew only in the strength of passion--she slew only a few, +those who thwarted her purposes or who vexed her soul; she slew sharply +and suddenly, embittering the fate of her victims with no foretastes of +destruction, no prolongations of pain; and, finally and chiefly, she +slew, not without remorse, nor without pity. But _we,_ in no storm +of passion--in no blindness of wrath,--we, in calm and clear and +untempted selfishness, pour our poison--not for a few only, but for +multitudes;--not for those who have wronged us, or resisted,--but for +those who have trusted us and aided:--we, not with sudden gift of +merciful and unconscious death, but with slow waste of hunger and weary +rack of disappointment and despair;--we, last and chiefly, do our +murdering, not with any pauses of pity or scorching of conscience, but +in facile and forgetful calm of mind--and so, forsooth, read day by +day, complacently, as if they meant any one else than ourselves, the +words that forever describe the wicked: "The _poison of asps_ is +under their lips, and their _feet are swift to shed blood._" + +You may indeed, perhaps, think there is some excuse for many in this +matter, just because the sin is so unconscious; that the guilt is not +so great when it is unapprehended, and that it is much more pardonable +to slay heedlessly than purposefully. I believe no feeling can be more +mistaken, and that in reality, and in the sight of heaven; the callous +indifference which pursues its own interests at any cost of life, +though it does not definitely adopt the purpose of sin, is a state of +mind at once more heinous and more hopeless than the wildest +aberrations of ungoverned passion. There may be, in the last case, some +elements of good and of redemption still mingled in the character; but, +in the other, few or none. There may be hope for the man who has slain +his enemy in anger; hope even for the man who has betrayed his friend +in fear; but what hope for him who trades in unregarded blood, and +builds his fortune on unrepented treason? + +But, however this may be, and wherever you may think yourselves bound +in justice to impute the greater sin, be assured that the question is +one of responsibilities only, not of facts. The definite result of all +our modern haste to be rich is assuredly, and constantly, the murder of +a certain number of persons by our hands every year. I have not time to +go into the details of another--on the whole, the broadest and +terriblest way in which we cause the destruction of the poor--namely, +the way of luxury and waste, destroying, in improvidence, what might +have been the support of thousands; [Footnote: The analysis of this +error will be found completely carried out in my lectures on the +political economy of art. And it is an error worth analyzing; for until +it is finally trodden under foot, no healthy political, economical, or +moral action is _possible_ in any state. I do not say this +impetuously or suddenly, for I have investigated this subject as +deeply; and as long, as my own special subject of art; and the +principles of political economy which I have stated in those lectures +are as sure as the principles of Euclid. Foolish readers doubted their +certainty, because I told them I had "never read any books on Political +Economy" Did they suppose I had got my knowledge of art by reading +books?] but if you follow out the subject for yourselves at home--and +what I have endeavoured to lay before you to-night will only be useful +to you if you do--you will find that wherever and whenever men are +endeavouring to _make money hastily_, and to avoid the labour +which Providence has appointed to be tho only source of honourable +profit;--and also wherever and whenever they permit themselves to +_spend it luxuriously_, without reflecting how far they are +misguiding the labour of others;--there and then, in either case, they +are literally and infallibly causing, for their own benefit or their +own pleasure, a certain annual number of human deaths; that, therefore, +the choice given to every man born into this world is, simply, whether +he will be a labourer, or an assassin; and that whosoever has not his +hand on the Stilt of the plough, has it on the Hilt of the dagger. + +It would also be quite vain for me to endeavour to follow out this +evening the lines of thought which would be suggested by the other two +great political uses of iron in the Fetter and the Sword: a few words +only I must permit myself respecting both. + +2. THE FETTER.--As the plough is the typical instrument of industry, so +the fetter is the typical instrument of the restraint or subjection +necessary in a nation--either literally, for its evil-doers, or +figuratively, in accepted laws, for its wise and good men. You have to +choose between this figurative and literal use; for depend upon it, the +more laws you accept, the fewer penalties you will have to endure, and +the fewer punishments to enforce. For wise laws and just restraints are +to a noble nation not chains, but chain mail--strength and defence, +though something also of an incumbrance. And this necessity of +restraint, remember, is just as honourable to man as the necessity of +labour. You hear every day greater numbers of foolish people speaking +about liberty, as if it were such an honourable thing: so far from +being that, it is, on the whole, and in the broadest sense, +dishonourable, and an attribute of the lower creatures. No human being, +however great or powerful, was ever so free as a fish. There is always +something that he must, or must not do; while the fish may do whatever +he likes. All the kingdoms of the world put together are not half so +large as the sea, and all the railroads and wheels that ever were, or +will be, invented are not so easy as fins. You will find, on fairly +thinking of it, that it is his Restraint which is honourable to man, +not his Liberty; and, what is more, it is restraint which is honourable +even in the lower animals. A butterfly is much more free than a bee; +but you honour the bee more, just because it is subject to certain laws +which fit it for orderly function in bee society And throughout the +world, of the two abstract things, liberty and restraint, restraint is +always the more honourable. It is true, indeed, that in these and all +other matters you never can reason finally from the abstraction, for +both liberty and restraint are good when they are nobly chosen, and +both are bad when they are basely chosen; but of the two, I repeat, it +is restraint which characterizes the higher creature, and betters the +lower creature: and, from the ministering of the archangel to the +labour of the insect,--from the poising of the planets to the +gravitation of a grain of dust,--the power and glory of all creatures, +and all matter, consist in their obedience, not in their freedom. The +Sun has no liberty--a dead leaf has much. The dust of which you are +formed has no liberty. Its liberty will come--with its corruption. + +And, therefore, I say boldly, though it seems a strange thing to say in +England, that as the first power of a nation consists in knowing how to +guide the Plough, its second power consists in knowing how to wear the +Fetter:-- + +3. THE SWORD.--And its third power, which perfects it as a nation, +consist in knowing how to wield the sword, so that the three talismans +of national existence are expressed in these three short words--Labour, +Law, and Courage. + +This last virtue we at least possess; and all that is to be alleged +against us is that we do not honour it enough. I do not mean honour by +acknowledgment of service, though sometimes we are slow in doing even +that. But we do not honour it enough in consistent regard to the lives +and souls of our soldiers. How wantonly we have wasted their lives you +have seen lately in the reports of their mortality by disease, which a +little care and science might have prevented; but we regard their souls +less than their lives, by keeping them in ignorance and idleness, and +regarding them merely as instruments of battle. The argument brought +forward for the maintenance of a standing army usually refers only to +expediency in the case of unexpected war, whereas, one of the chief +reasons for the maintenance of an army is the advantage of the military +system as a method of education. The most fiery and headstrong, who are +often also the most gifted and generous of your youths, have always a +tendency both in the lower and upper classes to offer themselves for +your soldiers: others, weak and unserviceable in a civil capacity, are +tempted or entrapped into the army in a fortunate hour for them: out of +this fiery or uncouth material, it is only a soldier's discipline which +can bring the full value and power. Even at present, by mere force of +order and authority, the army is the salvation of myriads; and men who, +under other circumstances, would have sunk into lethargy or +dissipation, are redeemed into noble life by a service which at once +summons and directs their energies. How much more than this military +education is capable of doing, you will find only when you make it +education indeed. We have no excuse for leaving our private soldiers at +their present level of ignorance and want of refinement, for we shall +invariably find that, both among officers and men, the gentlest and +best informed are the bravest; still less have we excuse for +diminishing our army, either in the present state of political events, +or, as I believe, in any other conjunction of them that for many a year +will be possible in this world. + +You may, perhaps, be surprised at my saying this; perhaps surprised at +my implying that war itself can be right, or necessary, or noble at +all. Nor do I speak of all war as necessary, nor of all war as noble. +Both peace and war are noble or ignoble according to their kind and +occasion. No man has a profounder sense of the horror and guilt of +ignoble war than I have: I have personally seen its effects, upon +nations, of unmitigated evil, on soul and body, with perhaps as much +pity, and as much bitterness of indignation, as any of those whom you +will hear continually declaiming in the cause of peace. But peace may +be sought in two ways. One way is as Gideon sought it, when he built +his altar in Ophrah, naming it, "God send peace," yet sought this peace +that he loved, as he was ordered to seek it, and the peace was sent, in +God's way:--"the country was in quietness forty years in the days of +Gideon." And the other way of seeking peace is as Menahem sought it +when he gave the King of Assyria a thousand talents of silver, that +"his hand might be with him." That is, you may either win your peace, +or buy it:--win it, by resistance to evil;--buy it, by compromise with +evil. You may buy your peace, with silenced consciences;--you may buy +it, with broken vows,--buy it, with lying words,--buy it, with base +connivances,--buy it, with the blood of the slain, and the cry of the +captive, and the silence of lost souls--over hemispheres of the earth, +while you sit smiling at your serene hearths, lisping comfortable +prayers evening and morning, and counting your pretty Protestant beads +(which are flat, and of gold, instead of round, and of ebony, as the +monks' ones were), and so mutter continually to yourselves, "Peace, +peace," when there is No peace; but only captivity and death, for you, +as well as for those you leave unsaved;--and yours darker than theirs. + +I cannot utter to you what I would in this matter; we all see too +dimly, as yet, what our great world-duties are, to allow any of us to +try to outline their enlarging shadows. But think over what I have +said, and as you return to your quiet homes to-night, reflect that +their peace was not won for you by your own hands; but by theirs who +long ago jeoparded their lives for you, their children; and remember +that neither this inherited peace, nor any other, can be kept, but +through the same jeopardy. No peace was ever won from Fate by +subterfuge or agreement; no peace is ever in store for any of us, but +that which we shall win by victory over shame or sin;--victory over the +sin that oppresses, as well as over that which corrupts. For many a +year to come, the sword of every righteous nation must be whetted to +save or subdue; nor will it be by patience of others' suffering, but by +the offering of your own, that you ever will draw nearer to the time +when the great change shall pass upon the iron of the earth;--when men +shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into +pruning-hooks; neither shall they learn war any more. + + + + +APPENDICES. + +APPENDIX I. + +RIGHT AND WRONG. + + +Readers who are using my _Elements of Drawing_ may be surprised by +my saying here that Tintoret may lead them wrong; while in the +_Elements_ he is one of the six men named as being "always right." + +I bring the apparent inconsistency forward at the beginning of this +Appendix, because the illustration of it will be farther useful in +showing the real nature of the self-contradiction which is often +alleged against me by careless readers. + +It is not only possible, but a frequent condition of human action, to +_do_ right and _be_ right--yet so as to mislead other people +if they rashly imitate the thing done. For there are many rights which +are not absolutely, but relatively right--right only for _that_ +person to do under those circumstances,--not for _this_ person to +do under other circumstances. + +Thus it stands between Titian and Tintoret. Titian is always absolutely +Right. You may imitate him with entire security that you are doing the +best thing that can possibly be done for the purpose in hand. Tintoret +is always relatively Right--relatively to his own aims and peculiar +powers. But you must quite understand Tintoret before you can be sure +what his aim was, and why he was then right in doing what would not be +right always. If, however, you take the pains thus to understand him, +he becomes entirely instructive and exemplary, just as Titian is; and +therefore I have placed him among those are "always right," and you can +only study him rightly with that reverence for him. + +Then the artists who are named as "admitting question of right and +wrong," are those who from some mischance of circumstance or short- +coming in their education, do not always do right, even with relation +to their own aims and powers. + +Take for example the quality of imperfection in drawing form. There are +many pictures of Tintoret in which the trees are drawn with a few +curved flourishes of the brush instead of leaves. That is (absolutely) +wrong. If you copied the tree as a model, you would be going very wrong +indeed. But it is relatively, and for Tintoret's purposes, right. In +the nature of the superficial work you will find there must have been a +cause for it. Somebody perhaps wanted the picture in a hurry to fill a +dark corner. Tintoret good-naturedly did all he could--painted the +figures tolerably--had five minutes left only for the trees, when the +servant came. "Let him wait another five minutes." And this is the best +foliage we can do in the time. Entirely, admirably, unsurpassably +right, under the conditions. Titian would not have worked under them, +but Tintoret was kinder and humbler; yet he may lead you wrong if you +don't understand him. Or, perhaps, another day, somebody came in while +Tintoret was at work, who tormented Tintoret. An ignoble person! Titian +would have been polite to him, and gone on steadily with his trees. +Tintoret cannot stand the ignobleness; it is unendurably repulsive and +discomfiting to him. "The Black Plague take him--and the trees, too! +Shall such a fellow see me paint!" And the trees go all to pieces. +This, in you, would be mere ill-breeding and ill-temper. In Tintoret it +was one of the necessary conditions of his intense sensibility; had he +been capable, then, of keeping his temper, he could never have done his +greatest works. Let the trees go to pieces, by all means; it is quite +right they should; he is always right. + +But in a background of Gainsborough you would find the trees +unjustifiably gone to pieces. The carelessness of form there is +definitely purposed by him;--adopted as an advisable thing; and +therefore it is both absolutely and relatively wrong;--it indicates his +being imperfectly educated as a painter, and not having brought out all +his powers. It may still happen that the man whose work thus partially +erroneous is greater far, than others who have fewer faults. +Gainsborough's and Reynolds' wrongs are more charming than almost +anybody else's right. Still, they occasionally _are_ wrong--but +the Venetians and Velasquez, [Footnote: At least after his style was +formed; early pictures, like the Adoration of the Magi in our Gallery, +are of little value.] never. + +I ought, perhaps, to have added in that Manchester address (only one +does not like to say things that shock people) some words of warning +against painters likely to mislead the student. For indeed, though here +and there something may be gained by looking at inferior men, there is +always more to be gained by looking at the best; and there is not time, +with all the looking of human life, to exhaust even one great painter's +instruction. How then shall we dare to waste our sight and thoughts on +inferior ones, even if we could do so, which we rarely can, without +danger of being led astray? Nay, strictly speaking, what people call +inferior painters are in general no painters. Artists are divided by an +impassable gulf into the men who can paint, and who cannot. The men who +can paint often fall short of what they should have done;--are +repressed, or defeated, or otherwise rendered inferior one to another: +still there is an everlasting barrier between them and the men who +cannot paint--who can only in various popular ways pretend to paint. +And if once you know the difference, there is always some good to be +got by looking at a real painter--seldom anything but mischief to be +got out of a false one; but do not suppose real painters are common. I +do not speak of living men; but among those who labour no more, in this +England of ours, since it first had a school, we have had only five +real painters;--Reynolds, Gainsborough, Hogarth, Richard Wilson, and +Turner. + +The reader may, perhaps, think I have forgotten Wilkie. No. I once much +overrated him as an expressional draughtsman, not having then studied +the figure long enough to be able to detect superficial sentiment. But +his colour I have never praised; it is entirely false and valueless. +And it would tie unjust to English art if I did not here express my +regret that the admiration of Constable, already harmful enough in +England, is extending even into France. There was, perhaps, the making, +in Constable, of a second or third-rate painter, if any careful +discipline had developed in him the instincts which, though +unparalleled for narrowness, were, as far as they went, true. But as it +is, he is nothing more than an industrious and innocent amateur +blundering his way to a superficial expression of one or two popular +aspects of common nature. + +And my readers may depend upon it, that all blame which I express in +this sweeping way is trustworthy. I have often had to repent of over- +praise of inferior men; and continually to repent of insufficient +praise of great men; but of broad condemnation, never. For I do not +speak it but after the most searching examination of the matter, and +under stern sense of need for it: so that whenever the reader is +entirely shocked by what I say, he may be assured every word is +true.[Footnote: He must, however, be careful to distinguish blame-- +however strongly expressed, of some special fault or error in a true +painter,--from these general statements of inferiority or +worthlessness. Thus he will find me continually laughing at Wilson's +tree-painting; not because Wilson could not paint, but because he had +never looked at a tree.] It is just because it so much offends him, +that it was necessary: and knowing that it must offend him, I should +not have ventured to say it, without certainty of its truth. I say +"certainty," for it is just as possible to be certain whether the +drawing of a tree or a stone is true or false, as whether the drawing +of a triangle is; and what I mean primarily by saying that a picture is +in all respects worthless, is that it is in all respects False: which +is not a matter of opinion at all, but a matter of ascertainable fact, +such as I never assert till I have ascertained. And the thing so +commonly said about my writings, that they are rather persuasive than +just; and that though my "language" may be good, I am an unsafe guide +in art criticism, is, like many other popular estimates in such +matters, not merely untrue, but precisely the reverse of the truth; it +is truth, like reflections in water, distorted much by the shaking +receptive surface, and in every particular, upside down. For my +"language," until within the last six or seven years, was loose, +obscure, and more or less feeble; and still, though I have tried hard +to mend it, the best I can do is inferior to much contemporary work. No +description that I have ever given of anything is worth four lines of +Tennyson; and in serious thought, my half-pages are generally only +worth about as much as a single sentence either of his, or of +Carlyle's. They are, I well trust, as true and necessary; but they are +neither so concentrated nor so well put. But I am an entirely safe +guide in art judgment: and that simply as the necessary result of my +having given the labour of life to the determination of facts, rather +than to the following of feelings or theories. Not, indeed, that my +work is free from mistakes; it admits many, and always must admit many, +from its scattered range; but, in the long run, it will be found to +enter sternly and searchingly into the nature of what it deals with, +and the kind of mistake it admits is never dangerous, consisting, +usually, in pressing the truth too far. It is quite easy, for instance, +to take an accidental irregularity in a piece of architecture, which +less careful examination would never have detected at all, for an +intentional irregularity; quite possible to misinterpret an obscure +passage in a picture, which a less earnest observer would never have +tried to interpret. But mistakes of this kind--honest, enthusiastic +mistakes--are never harmful; because they are always made in a true +direction,--falls forward on the road, not into the ditch beside it; +and they are sure to be corrected by the next comer. But the blunt and +dead mistakes made by too many other writers on art--the mistakes of +sheer inattention, and want of sympathy--are mortal. The entire purpose +of a great thinker may be difficult to fathom, and we may be over and +over again more or less mistaken in guessing at his meaning; but the +real, profound, nay, quite bottomless, and unredeemable mistake, is the +fool's thought--that he had no meaning. + +I do not refer, in saying this, to any of my statements respecting +subjects which it has been my main work to study: as far as I am aware, +I have never yet misinterpreted any picture of Turner's, though often +remaining blind to the half of what he had intended: neither have I as +yet found anything to correct in my statements respecting Venetian +architecture; [Footnote: The subtle portions of the Byzantine Palaces, +given in precise measurements in the second volume of the "Stones of +Venice," were alleged by architects to be accidental irregularities. +They will be found, by every one who will take the pains to examine +them, most assuredly and indisputably intentional,--and not only so, +but one of the principal subjects of the designer's care.] but in +_casual references_ to what has been quickly seen, it is +impossible to guard wholly against error, without losing much valuable +observation, true in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, and harmless +even when erroneous. + + + + + +APPENDIX II. + +REYNOLDS' DISAPPOINTMENT. + + +It is very fortunate that in the fragment of Mason's MSS., published +lately by Mr. Cotton in his "Sir Joshua Reynolds' Notes," [Footnote: +Smith, Soho Square, 1859.] record is preserved of Sir Joshua's feelings +respecting the paintings in the window of New College, which might +otherwise have been supposed to give his full sanction to this mode of +painting on glass. Nothing can possibly be more curious, to my mind, +than the great painter's expectations; or his having at all entertained +the idea that the qualities of colour which are peculiar to opaque +bodies could be obtained in a transparent medium; but so it is: and +with the simplicity and humbleness of an entirely great man he hopes +that Mr. Jervas on glass is to excel Sir Joshua on canvas. Happily, +Mason tells us the result. + +"With the copy Jervas made of this picture he was grievously +disappointed. 'I had frequently,' he said to me, 'pleased myself by +reflecting, after I had produced what I thought a brilliant effect of +light and shadow on my canvas, how greatly that effect would be +heightened by the transparency which the painting on glass would be +sure to produce. It turned out quite the reverse.'" + + + + +APPENDIX III. + +CLASSICAL ARCHITECTURE. + + +This passage in the lecture was illustrated by an enlargement of the +woodcut, Fig. 1; but I did not choose to disfigure the middle of this +book with it. It is copied from the 49th plate of the third edition of +the _Encyclopędia Britannica_ (Edinburgh, 1797), and represents an +English farmhouse arranged on classical principles. If the reader cares +to consult the work itself, he will find in the same plate another +composition of similar propriety, and dignified by the addition of a +pediment, beneath the shadow of which "a private gentleman who has a +small family may find conveniency." + + + + +APPENDIX IV. + +SUBTLETY OF HAND. + + +I had intended in one or other of these lectures to have spoken at some +length of the quality of refinement in Colour, but found the subject +would lead me too far. A few words are, however, necessary in order to +explain some expressions in the text. + +"Refinement in colour" is indeed a tautological expression, for colour, +in the true sense of the word, does not exist until it _is_ +refined. Dirt exists,--stains exist,--and pigments exist, easily enough +in all places; and are laid on easily enough by all hands; but colour +exists only where there is tenderness, and can be laid on only by a +hand which has strong life in it. The law concerning colour is very +strange, very noble, in some sense almost awful. In every given touch +laid on canvas, if one grain of the colour is inoperative, and does not +take its full part in producing the hue, the hue will be imperfect. The +grain of colour which does not work is dead. It infects all about it +with its death. It must be got quit of, or the touch is spoiled. We +acknowledge this instinctively in our use of the phrases "dead colour," +"killed colour," "foul colour." Those words are, in some sort, +literally true. If more colour is put on than is necessary, a heavy +touch when a light one would have been enough, the quantity of colour +that was not wanted, and is overlaid by the rest, is as dead, and it +pollutes the rest. There will be no good in the touch. + +The art of painting, properly so called, consists in laying on the +least possible colour that will produce the required result, and this +measurement, in all the ultimate, that is to say, the principal, +operations of colouring, is so delicate that not one human hand in a +million has the required lightness. The final touch of any painter +properly so named, of Correggio--Titian--Turner--or Reynolds--would be +always quite invisible to any one watching the progress of the work, +the films of hue being laid thinner than the depths of the grooves in +mother-of-pearl. The work may be swift, apparently careless, nay, to +the painter himself almost unconscious. Great painters are so organized +that they do their best work without effort: but analyze the touches +afterwards, and you will find the structure and depth of the colour +laid mathematically demonstrable to be of literally infinite fineness, +the last touches passing away at their edges by untraceable gradation. +The very essence of a master's work may thus be removed by a picture- +cleaner in ten minutes. + +Observe, however, this thinness exists only in portions of the ultimate +touches, for which the preparation may often have been made with solid +colours, commonly, and literally, called "dead colouring," but even +that is always subtle if a master lays it--subtle at least in drawing, +if simple in hue; and farther, observe that the refinement of work +consists not in laying absolutely _little_ colour, but in always +laying precisely the right quantity. To lay on little needs indeed the +rare lightness of hand; but to lay much,--yet not one atom _too_ +much, and obtain subtlety, not by withholding strength, but by +precision of pause,--that is the master's final sign-manual--power, +knowledge, and tenderness all united. A great deal of colour may often +be wanted; perhaps quite a mass of it, such as shall project from the +canvas; but the real painter lays this mass of its required thickness +and shape with as much precision as if it were a bud of a flower which +he had to touch into blossom; one of Turner's loaded fragments of white +cloud is modelled and gradated in an instant, as if it alone were the +subject of the picture, when the same quantity of colour, under another +hand, would be a lifeless lump. + +The following extract from a letter in the _Literary Gazette_ of +13th November, 1858, which I was obliged to write to defend a +questioned expression respecting Turner's subtlety of hand from a +charge of hyperbole, contains some interesting and conclusive evidence +on the point, though it refers to pencil and chalk drawing only:-- + +"I must ask you to allow me yet leave to reply to the objections you +make to two statements in my catalogue, as those objections would +otherwise diminish its usefulness. I have asserted that, in a given +drawing (named as one of the chief in the series), Turner's pencil did +not move over the thousandth of an inch without meaning; and you charge +this expression with extravagant hyperbole. On the contrary, it is much +within the truth, being merely a mathematically accurate description of +fairly good execution in either drawing or engraving. It is only +necessary to measure a piece of any ordinary good work to ascertain +this. Take, for instance, Finden's engraving at the 180th page of +Rogers' poems; in which the face of the figure, from the chin to the +top of the brow, occupies just a quarter of an inch, and the space +between the upper lip and chin as nearly as possible one-seventeenth of +an inch. The whole mouth occupies one-third of this space, say one- +fiftieth of an inch, and within that space both the lips and the much +more difficult inner corner of the mouth are perfectly drawn and +rounded, with quite successful and sufficiently subtle expression. Any +artist will assure you that in order to draw a mouth as well as this, +there must be more than twenty gradations of shade in the touches; that +is to say, in this case, gradations changing, with meaning, within less +than the thousandth of an inch. + +"But this is mere child's play compared to the refinement of a first- +rate mechanical work--much more of brush or pencil drawing by a +master's hand. In order at once to furnish you with authoritative +evidence on this point, I wrote to Mr. Kingsley, tutor of Sidney-Sussex +College, a friend to whom I always have recourse when I want to be +precisely right in any matter; for his great knowledge both of +mathematics and of natural science is joined, not only with singular +powers of delicate experimental manipulation, but with a keen +sensitiveness to beauty in art. His answer, in its final statement +respecting Turner's work, is amazing even to me, and will, I should +think, be more so to your readers. Observe the successions of measured +and tested refinement: here is No. 1:-- + +"'The finest mechanical work that I know, which is not optical, is that +done by Nobert in the way of ruling lines. I have a series ruled by him +on glass, giving actual scales from .000024 and .000016 of an inch, +perfectly correct to these places of decimals, and he has executed +others as fine as .000012, though I do not know how far he could repeat +these last with accuracy.' + +"This is No. 1 of precision. Mr. Kingsley proceeds to No. 2:-- + +"'But this is rude work compared to the accuracy necessary for the +construction of the object-glass of a microscope such as Rosse turns +out.' + +"I am sorry to omit the explanation which follows of the ten lenses +composing such a glass, 'each of which must be exact in radius and in +surface, and all have their axes coincident:' but it would not be +intelligible without the figure by which it is illustrated; so I pass +to Mr. Kingsley's No. 3:-- + +"'I am tolerably familiar,' he proceeds, 'with the actual grinding and +polishing of lenses and specula, and have produced by my own hand some +by no means bad optical work, and I have copied no small amount of +Turner's work, and _I still look with awe at the combined delicacy +and precision of his hand_; IT BEATS OPTICAL WORK OUT OF SIGHT. In +optical work, as in refined drawing, the hand goes beyond the eye, and +one has to depend upon the feel; and when one has once learned what a +delicate affair touch is, one gets a horror of all coarse work, and is +ready to forgive any amount of feebleness, sooner than that boldness +which is akin to impudence. In optics the distinction is easily seen +when the work is put to trial; but here too, as in drawing, it requires +an educated eye to tell the difference when the work is only moderately +bad; but with "bold" work, nothing can be seen but distortion and fog: +and I heartily wish the same result would follow the same kind of +handling in drawing; but here, the boldness cheats the unlearned by +looking like the precision of the true man. It is very strange how much +better our ears are than our eyes in this country: if an ignorant man +were to be "bold" with a violin, he would not get many admirers, though +his boldness was far below that of ninety-nine out of a hundred +drawings one sees.' + +"The words which I have put in italics in the above extract are those +which were surprising to me. I knew that Turner's was as refined as any +optical work, but had no idea of its going beyond it. Mr. Kingsley's +word 'awe' occurring just before, is, however, as I have often felt, +precisely the right one. When once we begin at all to understand the +handling of any truly great executor, such as that of any of the three +great Venetians, of Correggio, or Turner, the awe of it is something +greater than can be felt from the most stupendous natural scenery. For +the creation of such a system as a high human intelligence, endowed +with its ineffably perfect instruments of eye and hand, is a far more +appalling manifestation of Infinite Power, than the making either of +seas or mountains. + +"After this testimony to the completion of Turner's work, I need not at +length defend myself from the charge of hyperbole in the statement +that, 'as far as I know, the galleries of Europe may be challenged to +produce one sketch [footnote: A sketch, observe,--not a finished +drawing. Sketches are only proper subjects of comparison with each +other when they contain about the same quantity of work: the test of +their merit is the quantity of truth told with a given number of +touches. The assertion in the Catalogue which this letter was written +to defend, was made respecting the sketch of Rome, No. 101.] that shall +equal the chalk study No. 45, or the feeblest of the memoranda in the +71st and following frames;' which memoranda, however, it should have +been observed, are stated at the 44th page to be in some respects 'the +grandest work in grey that he did in his life.' For I believe that, as +manipulators, none but the four men whom I have just named (the three +Venetians and Correggio) were equal to Turner; and, as far as I know, +none of those four ever put their full strength into sketches. But +whether they did or not, my statement in the catalogue is limited by my +own knowledge: and, as far as I can trust that knowledge, it is not an +enthusiastic statement, but an entirely calm and considered one. It may +be a mistake but it is not a hyperbole." + + + + +APPENDIX V. + + +I can only give, to illustrate this balcony, fac-similes of rough +memoranda made on a single leaf of my note-book, with a tired hand; but +it may be useful to young students to see them, in order that they may +know the difference between notes made to get at the gist and heart of +a thing, and notes made merely to look neat. Only it must be observed +that the best characters of free drawing are always lost even in the +most careful facsimile; and I should not show even these slight notes +in woodcut imitation, unless the reader had it in his power, by a +glance at the 21st or 35th plates in _Modern Painters_ (and yet +better, by trying to copy a piece of either of them), to ascertain how +far I can draw or not. I refer to these plates, because, though I +distinctly stated in the preface that they, together with the 12th, +20th, 34th, and 37th, were executed on the steel by my own hand, (the +use of the dry point in the foregrounds of the 12th and 21st plates +being moreover wholly different from the common processes of etching) I +find it constantly assumed that they were engraved for me--as if direct +lying in such matters were a thing of quite common usage. + +Fig. 2 is the centre-piece of the balcony, but a leaf-spray is omitted +on the right-hand side, having been too much buried among the real +leaves to be drawn. + +Fig. 3 shows the intended general effect of its masses, the five-leaved +and six-leaved flowers being clearly distinguishable at any distance. + +Fig. 4 is its profile, rather carefully drawn at the top, to show the +tulip and turkscap lily leaves. Underneath there is a plate of iron +beaten into broad thin leaves, which gives the centre of the balcony a +gradual sweep outwards, like the side of a ship of war. The central +profile is of the greatest importance in ironwork, as the flow of it +affects the curves of the whole design, not merely in surface, as in +marble carving, but in their intersections, when the side is seen +through the front. The lighter leaves, _b b_, are real bindweed. + +Fig. 5 shows two of the teeth of the border, illustrating their +irregularity of form, which takes place quite to the extent indicated. + +Fig. 6 is the border at the side of the balcony, showing the most +interesting circumstance in the treatment of the whole, namely, the +enlargement and retraction of the teeth of the cornice, as it +approaches the wall. This treatment of the whole cornice as a kind of +wreath round the balcony, having its leaves flung loose at the back, +and set close at the front, as a girl would throw a wreath of leaves +round her hair, is precisely the most finished indication of a good +workman's mind to be found in the whole thing. + +Fig. 7 shows the outline of the retracted leaves accurately. It was +noted in the text that the whole of this ironwork had been coloured. +The difficulty of colouring ironwork rightly, and the necessity of +doing it in some way or other, have been the principal reasons for my +never having entered heartily into this subject; for all the ironwork I +have ever seen look beautiful was rusty, and rusty iron will not answer +modern purposes. Nevertheless it may be painted, but it needs some one +to do it who knows what painting means, and few of us do--certainly +none, as yet, of our restorers of decoration or writers on colour. + +It is a marvellous thing to me that book after book should appear on +this last subject, without apparently the slightest consciousness on +the part of the writers that the first necessity of beauty in colour is +gradation, as the first necessity of beauty in line is curvature,--or +that the second necessity in colour is mystery or subtlety, as the +second necessity in line is softness. Colour ungradated is wholly +valueless; colour unmysterious is wholly barbarous. Unless it looses +itself and melts away towards other colours, as a true line loses +itself and melts away towards other lines, colour has no proper +existence, in the noble sense of the word. What a cube, or tetrahedron, +is to organic form, ungradated and unconfused colour is to organic +colour; and a person who attempts to arrange colour harmonies without +gradation of tint is in precisely the same category, as an artist who +should try to compose a beautiful picture out of an accumulation of +cubes and parallelepipeds. + +The value of hue in all illuminations on painted glass of fine periods +depends primarily on the expedients used to make the colours palpitate and +fluctuate; _inequality_ of brilliancy being the _condition_ of brilliancy, +just as inequality of accent is the condition of power and loveliness in +sound. The skill with which the thirteenth century illuminators in books, +and the Indians in shawls and carpets, use the minutest atoms of colour +to gradate other colours, and confuse the eye, is the first secret in their +gift of splendour: associated, however, with so many other artifices which +are quite instinctive and unteachable, that it is of little use to dwell +upon them. Delicacy of organization in the designer given, you will soon +have all, and without it, nothing. However, not to close my book with +desponding words, let me set down, as many of us like such things, five +Laws to which there is no exception whatever, and which, if they can +enable no one to produce good colour, are at least, as far as they +reach, accurately condemnatory of bad colour. + +1. ALL GOOD COLOUR IS GRADATED. A blush rose (or, better still, a blush +itself), is the type of rightness in arrangement of pure hue. + +2. ALL HARMONIES OF COLOUR DEPEND FOR THEIR VITALITY ON THE ACTION AND +HELPFUL OPERATION OF EVERY PARTICLE OF COLOUR THEY CONTAIN. + +3. THE FINAL PARTICLES OF COLOUR NECESSARY TO THE COMPLETENESS OF A +COLOUR HARMONY ARE ALWAYS INFINITELY SMALL; either laid by immeasurably +subtle touches of the pencil, or produced by portions of the colouring +substance, however distributed, which are so absolutely small as to +become at the intended distance infinitely so to the eye. + +4. NO COLOUR HARMONY IS OF HIGH ORDER UNLESS IT INVOLVES INDESCRIBABLE +TINTS. It is the best possible sign of a colour when nobody who sees it +knows what to call it, or how to give an idea of it to any one else. +Even among simple hues the most valuable are those which cannot be +defined; the most precious purples will look brown beside pure purple, +and purple beside pure brown; and the most precious greens will be +called blue if seen beside pure green, and green if seen beside pure +blue. + +5. THE FINER THE EYE FOR COLOUR, THE LESS IT WILL REQUIRE TO GRATIFY IT +INTENSELY. But that little must be supremely good and pure, as the +finest notes of a great singer, which are so near to silence. And a +great colourist will make even the absence of colour lovely, as the +fading of the perfect voice makes silence sacred. + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE TWO PATHS *** + +This file should be named 7291-8.txt or 7291-8.zip + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END* + diff --git a/7291-8.zip b/7291-8.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..78f1480 --- /dev/null +++ b/7291-8.zip diff --git a/7291-h.zip b/7291-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..77d09ff --- /dev/null +++ b/7291-h.zip diff --git a/7291-h/7291-h.htm b/7291-h/7291-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..7badbc7 --- /dev/null +++ b/7291-h/7291-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,5831 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="iso-8859-1"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> + <head> + <meta content="pg2html (binary v0.17)" name="linkgenerator" /> + <title> + The Two Paths, by John Ruskin + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .75em; margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5%; text-align: justify; font-size: 80%; font-style: italic;} + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + .xx-small {font-size: 60%;} + .x-small {font-size: 75%;} + .small {font-size: 85%;} + .large {font-size: 115%;} + .x-large {font-size: 130%;} + .indent5 { margin-left: 5%;} + .indent10 { margin-left: 10%;} + .indent15 { margin-left: 15%;} + .indent20 { margin-left: 20%;} + .indent25 { margin-left: 25%;} + .indent30 { margin-left: 30%;} + .indent35 { margin-left: 35%;} + .indent40 { margin-left: 40%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {position: absolute; right: 1%; font-size: 0.6em; + font-variant: normal; font-style: normal; + text-align: right; background-color: #FFFACD; + border: 1px solid; padding: 0.3em;text-indent: 0em;} + .side { float: left; font-size: 75%; width: 15%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: left; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + .head { float: left; font-size: 90%; width: 98%; padding-left: 0.8em; + border-left: dashed thin; text-align: center; + text-indent: 0; font-weight: bold; font-style: italic; + font-weight: bold; color: black; background: #eeeeee; border: solid 1px;} + p.pfirst, p.noindent {text-indent: 0} + span.dropcap { float: left; margin: 0 0.1em 0 0; line-height: 0.8 } + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 100%; margin-left: 10%;} +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Two Paths, by John Ruskin + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!***** + + +Title: The Two Paths + +Author: John Ruskin + +Release Date: January, 2005 [EBook #7291] +[This file was first posted on April 7, 2003] +Last Updated: February 12, 2019 + + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO Latin-1 + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE TWO PATHS *** + + +Etext produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + + +</pre> + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE TWO PATHS + </h1> + <h2> + By John Ruskin + </h2> + <hr /> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> THE TWO PATHS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> THE TWO PATHS </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> LECTURE I. — THE DETERIORATIVE POWER OF + CONVENTIONAL ART OVER NATIONS. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0005"> LECTURE II. — THE UNITY OF ART. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0006"> LECTURE III. — MODERN MANUFACTURE AND + DESIGN. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0007"> LECTURE IV. — INFLUENCE OF IMAGINATION IN + ARCHITECTURE </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0008"> LECTURE V. — THE WORK OF IRON, IN NATURE, + ART, AND POLICY. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0009"> APPENDICES. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0010"> APPENDIX II. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0011"> APPENDIX III. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0012"> APPENDIX IV. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0013"> APPENDIX V. </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + THE TWO PATHS. + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + PREFACE. + </h2> + <p> + The following addresses, though spoken at different times, are + intentionally connected in subject; their aim being to set one or two main + principles of art in simple light before the general student, and to + indicate their practical bearing on modern design. The law which it has + been my effort chiefly to illustrate is the dependence of all noble + design, in any kind, on the sculpture or painting of Organic Form. + </p> + <p> + This is the vital law; lying at the root of all that I have ever tried to + teach respecting architecture or any other art. It is also the law most + generally disallowed. + </p> + <p> + I believe this must be so in every subject. We are all of us willing + enough to accept dead truths or blunt ones; which can be fitted harmlessly + into spare niches, or shrouded and coffined at once out of the way, we + holding complacently the cemetery keys, and supposing we have learned + something. But a sapling truth, with earth at its root and blossom on its + branches; or a trenchant truth, that can cut its way through bars and + sods; most men, it seems to me, dislike the sight or entertainment of, if + by any means such guest or vision may be avoided. And, indeed, this is no + wonder; for one such truth, thoroughly accepted, connects itself strangely + with others, and there is no saying what it may lead us to. + </p> + <p> + And thus the gist of what I have tried to teach about architecture has + been throughout denied by my architect readers, even when they thought + what I said suggestive in other particulars. "Anything but that. Study + Italian Gothic?—perhaps it would be as well: build with pointed + arches?—there is no objection: use solid stone and well-burnt brick?— + by all means: but—learn to carve or paint organic form ourselves! + How can such a thing be asked? We are above all that. The carvers and + painters are our servants—quite subordinate people. They ought to be + glad if we leave room for them." + </p> + <p> + Well: on that it all turns. For those who will not learn to carve or + paint, and think themselves greater men because they cannot, it is wholly + wasted time to read any words of mine; in the truest and sternest sense + they can read no words of mine; for the most familiar I can use—"form," + "proportion," "beauty," "curvature," "colour"—are used in a sense + which by no effort I can communicate to such readers; and in no building + that I praise, is the thing that I praise it for, visible to them. + </p> + <p> + And it is the more necessary for me to state this fully; because so- + called Gothic or Romanesque buildings are now rising every day around us, + which might be supposed by the public more or less to embody the + principles of those styles, but which embody not one of them, nor any + shadow or fragment of them; but merely serve to caricature the noble + buildings of past ages, and to bring their form into dishonour by leaving + out their soul. + </p> + <p> + The following addresses are therefore arranged, as I have just stated, to + put this great law, and one or two collateral ones, in less mistakeable + light, securing even in this irregular form at least clearness of + assertion. For the rest, the question at issue is not one to be decided by + argument, but by experiment, which if the reader is disinclined to make, + all demonstration must be useless to him. + </p> + <p> + The lectures are for the most part printed as they were read, mending only + obscure sentences here and there. The parts which were trusted to + extempore speaking are supplied, as well as I can remember (only with an + addition here and there of things I forgot to say), in the words, or at + least the kind of words, used at the time; and they contain, at all + events, the substance of what I said more accurately than hurried journal + reports. I must beg my readers not in general to trust to such, for even + in fast speaking I try to use words carefully; and any alteration of + expression will sometimes involve a great alteration in meaning. A little + while ago I had to speak of an architectural design, and called it + "elegant," meaning, founded on good and well "elected" models; the printed + report gave "excellent" design (that is to say, design <i>excellingly</i> + good), which I did not mean, and should, even in the most hurried + speaking, never have said. + </p> + <p> + The illustrations of the lecture on iron were sketches made too roughly to + be engraved, and yet of too elaborate subjects to allow of my drawing them + completely. Those now substituted will, however, answer the purpose nearly + as well, and are more directly connected with the subjects of the + preceding lectures; so that I hope throughout the volume the student will + perceive an insistance upon one main truth, nor lose in any minor + direction of inquiry the sense of the responsibility which the acceptance + of that truth fastens upon him; responsibility for choice, decisive and + conclusive, between two modes of study, which involve ultimately the + development, or deadening, of every power he possesses. I have tried to + hold that choice clearly out to him, and to unveil for him to its farthest + the issue of his turning to the right hand or the left. Guides he may find + many, and aids many; but all these will be in vain unless he has first + recognised the hour and the point of life when the way divides itself, one + way leading to the Olive mountains—one to the vale of the Salt Sea. + There are few cross roads, that I know of, from one to the other. Let him + pause at the parting of THE TWO PATHS. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + THE TWO PATHS + </h2> + <h3> + <i>BEING</i> + </h3> + <p> + LECTURES ON ART, AND ITS APPLICATION TO DECORATION AND MANUFACTURE + DELIVERED IN 1858-9. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE I. — THE DETERIORATIVE POWER OF CONVENTIONAL ART OVER + NATIONS. + </h2> + <p> + <i>An Inaugural Lecture, Delivered at the Kensington Museum, January, + 1858.</i> + </p> + <p> + [Note: A few introductory words, in which, at the opening of this lecture, + I thanked the Chairman (Mr. Cockerell), for his support on the occasion, + and asked his pardon for any hasty expressions in my writings, which might + have seemed discourteous towards him, or other architects whose general + opinions were opposed to mine, may be found by those who care for + preambles, not much misreported, in the <i>Building Chronicle;</i> with + such comments as the genius of that journal was likely to suggest to it.] + </p> + <p> + As I passed, last summer, for the first time, through the north of + Scotland, it seemed to me that there was a peculiar painfulness in its + scenery, caused by the non-manifestation of the powers of human art. I had + never travelled in, nor even heard or conceived of such a country before; + nor, though I had passed much of my life amidst mountain scenery in the + south, was I before aware how much of its charm depended on the little + gracefulnesses and tendernesses of human work, which are mingled with the + beauty of the Alps, or spared by their desolation. It is true that the art + which carves and colours the front of a Swiss cottage is not of any very + exalted kind; yet it testifies to the completeness and the delicacy of the + faculties of the mountaineer; it is true that the remnants of tower and + battlement, which afford footing to the wild vine on the Alpine + promontory, form but a small part of the great serration of its rocks; and + yet it is just that fragment of their broken outline which gives them + their pathetic power, and historical majesty. And this element among the + wilds of our own country I found wholly wanting. The Highland cottage is + literally a heap of gray stones, choked up, rather than roofed over, with + black peat and withered heather; the only approach to an effort at + decoration consists in the placing of the clods of protective peat + obliquely on its roof, so as to give a diagonal arrangement of lines, + looking somewhat as if the surface had been scored over by a gigantic + claymore. + </p> + <p> + And, at least among the northern hills of Scotland, elements of more + ancient architectural interest are equally absent. The solitary peel- + house is hardly discernible by the windings of the stream; the roofless + aisle of the priory is lost among the enclosures of the village; and the + capital city of the Highlands, Inverness, placed where it might ennoble + one of the sweetest landscapes, and by the shore of one of the loveliest + estuaries in the world;—placed between the crests of the Grampians + and the flowing of the Moray Firth, as if it were a jewel clasping the + folds of the mountains to the blue zone of the sea,—is only + distinguishable from a distance by one architectural feature, and exalts + all the surrounding landscape by no other associations than those which + can be connected with its modern castellated gaol. + </p> + <p> + While these conditions of Scottish scenery affected me very painfully, it + being the first time in my life that I had been in any country possessing + no valuable monuments or examples of art, they also forced me into the + consideration of one or two difficult questions respecting the effect of + art on the human mind; and they forced these questions upon me eminently + for this reason, that while I was wandering disconsolately among the moors + of the Grampians, where there was no art to be found, news of peculiar + interest was every day arriving from a country where there was a great + deal of art, and art of a delicate kind, to be found. Among the models set + before you in this institution, and in the others established throughout + the kingdom for the teaching of design, there are, I suppose, none in + their kind more admirable than the decorated works of India. They are, + indeed, in all materials capable of colour, wool, marble, or metal, almost + inimitable in their delicate application of divided hue, and fine + arrangement of fantastic line. Nor is this power of theirs exerted by the + people rarely, or without enjoyment; the love of subtle design seems + universal in the race, and is developed in every implement that they + shape, and every building that they raise; it attaches itself with the + same intensity, and with the same success, to the service of superstition, + of pleasure or of cruelty; and enriches alike, with one profusion on + enchanted iridescence, the dome of the pagoda, the fringe of the girdle + and the edge of the sword. + </p> + <p> + So then you have, in these two great populations, Indian and Highland— + in the races of the jungle and of the moor—two national capacities + distinctly and accurately opposed. On the one side you have a race + rejoicing in art, and eminently and universally endowed with the gift of + it; on the other you have a people careless of art, and apparently + incapable of it, their utmost effort hitherto reaching no farther than to + the variation of the positions of the bars of colour in square chequers. + And we are thus urged naturally to enquire what is the effect on the moral + character, in each nation, of this vast difference in their pursuits and + apparent capacities? and whether those rude chequers of the tartan, or the + exquisitely fancied involutions of the Cashmere, fold habitually over the + noblest hearts? We have had our answer. Since the race of man began its + course of sin on this earth, nothing has ever been done by it so + significative of all bestial, and lower than bestial degradation, as the + acts the Indian race in the year that has just passed by. Cruelty as + fierce may indeed have been wreaked, and brutality as abominable been + practised before, but never under like circumstances; rage of prolonged + war, and resentment of prolonged oppression, have made men as cruel before + now; and gradual decline into barbarism, where no examples of decency or + civilization existed around them, has sunk, before now, isolated + populations to the lowest level of possible humanity. But cruelty + stretched to its fiercest against the gentle and unoffending, and + corruption festered to its loathsomest in the midst of the witnessing + presence of a disciplined civilization,— these we could not have + known to be within the practicable compass of human guilt, but for the + acts of the Indian mutineer. And, as thus, on the one hand, you have an + extreme energy of baseness displayed by these lovers of art; on the other,—as + if to put the question into the narrowest compass—you have had an + extreme energy of virtue displayed by the despisers of art. Among all the + soldiers to whom you owe your victories in the Crimea, and your avenging + in the Indies, to none are you bound by closer bonds of gratitude than to + the men who have been born and bred among those desolate Highland moors. + And thus you have the differences in capacity and circumstance between the + two nations, and the differences in result on the moral habits of two + nations, put into the most significant—the most palpable—the + most brief opposition. Out of the peat cottage come faith, courage, self- + sacrifice, purity, and piety, and whatever else is fruitful in the work of + Heaven; out of the ivory palace come treachery, cruelty, cowardice, + idolatry, bestiality,—whatever else is fruitful in the work of Hell. + </p> + <p> + But the difficulty does not close here. From one instance, of however + great apparent force, it would be wholly unfair to gather any general + conclusion—wholly illogical to assert that because we had once found + love of art connected with moral baseness, the love of art must be the + general root of moral baseness; and equally unfair to assert that, because + we had once found neglect of art coincident with nobleness of disposition, + neglect of art must be always the source or sign of that nobleness. But if + we pass from the Indian peninsula into other countries of the globe; and + from our own recent experience, to the records of history, we shall still + find one great fact fronting us, in stern universality—namely, the + apparent connection of great success in art with subsequent national + degradation. You find, in the first place, that the nations which + possessed a refined art were always subdued by those who possessed none: + you find the Lydian subdued by the Mede; the Athenian by the Spartan; the + Greek by the Roman; the Roman by the Goth; the Burgundian by the Switzer: + but you find, beyond this—that even where no attack by any external + power has accelerated the catastrophe of the state, the period in which + any given people reach their highest power in art is precisely that in + which they appear to sign the warrant of their own ruin; and that, from + the moment in which a perfect statue appears in Florence, a perfect + picture in Venice, or a perfect fresco in Rome, from that hour forward, + probity, industry, and courage seem to be exiled from their walls, and + they perish in a sculpturesque paralysis, or a many-coloured corruption. + </p> + <p> + But even this is not all. As art seems thus, in its delicate form, to be + one of the chief promoters of indolence and sensuality,—so, I need + hardly remind you, it hitherto has appeared only in energetic + manifestation when it was in the service of superstition. The four + greatest manifestations of human intellect which founded the four + principal kingdoms of art, Egyptian, Babylonian, Greek, and Italian, were + developed by the strong excitement of active superstition in the worship + of Osiris, Belus, Minerva, and the Queen of Heaven. Therefore, to speak + briefly, it may appear very difficult to show that art has ever yet + existed in a consistent and thoroughly energetic school, unless it was + engaged in the propagation of falsehood, or the encouragement of vice. + </p> + <p> + And finally, while art has thus shown itself always active in the service + of luxury and idolatry, it has also been strongly directed to the + exaltation of cruelty. A nation which lives a pastoral and innocent life + never decorates the shepherd's staff or the plough-handle, but races who + live by depredation and slaughter nearly always bestow exquisite ornaments + on the quiver, the helmet, and the spear. + </p> + <p> + Does it not seem to you, then, on all these three counts, more than + questionable whether we are assembled here in Kensington Museum to any + good purpose? Might we not justly be looked upon with suspicion and fear, + rather than with sympathy, by the innocent and unartistical public? Are we + even sure of ourselves? Do we know what we are about? Are we met here as + honest people? or are we not rather so many Catilines assembled to devise + the hasty degradation of our country, or, like a conclave of midnight + witches, to summon and send forth, on new and unexpected missions, the + demons of luxury, cruelty, and superstition? + </p> + <p> + I trust, upon the whole, that it is not so: I am sure that Mr. Redgrave + and Mr. Cole do not at all include results of this kind in their + conception of the ultimate objects of the institution which owes so much + to their strenuous and well-directed exertions. And I have put this + painful question before you, only that we may face it thoroughly, and, as + I hope, out-face it. If you will give it a little sincere attention this + evening, I trust we may find sufficiently good reasons for our work, and + proceed to it hereafter, as all good workmen should do, with clear heads, + and calm consciences. + </p> + <p> + To return, then, to the first point of difficulty, the relations between + art and mental disposition in India and Scotland. It is quite true that + the art of India is delicate and refined. But it has one curious character + distinguishing it from all other art of equal merit in design—<i>it + never represents a natural fact</i>. It either forms its compositions out + of meaningless fragments of colour and flowings of line; or if it + represents any living creature, it represents that creature under some + distorted and monstrous form. To all the facts and forms of nature it + wilfully and resolutely opposes itself; it will not draw a man, but an + eight-armed monster; it will not draw a flower, but only a spiral or a + zigzag. + </p> + <p> + It thus indicates that the people who practise it are cut off from all + possible sources of healthy knowledge or natural delight; that they have + wilfully sealed up and put aside the entire volume of the world, and have + got nothing to read, nothing to dwell upon, but that imagination of the + thoughts of their hearts, of which we are told that "it is only evil + continually." Over the whole spectacle of creation they have thrown a veil + in which there is no rent. For them no star peeps through the blanket of + the dark—for them neither their heaven shines nor their mountains + rise—for them the flowers do not blossom— for them the + creatures of field and forest do not live. They lie bound in the dungeon + of their own corruption, encompassed only by doleful phantoms, or by + spectral vacancy. + </p> + <p> + Need I remind you what an exact reverse of this condition of mind, as + respects the observance of nature, is presented by the people whom we have + just been led to contemplate in contrast with the Indian race? You will + find upon reflection, that all the highest points of the Scottish + character are connected with impressions derived straight from the natural + scenery of their country. No nation has ever before shown, in the general + tone of its language—in the general current of its literature—so + constant a habit of hallowing its passions and confirming its principles + by direct association with the charm, or power, of nature. The writings of + Scott and Burns—and yet more, of the far greater poets than Burns + who gave Scotland her traditional ballads,—furnish you in every + stanza—almost in every line—with examples of this association + of natural scenery with the passions; [Note: The great poets of Scotland, + like the great poets of all other countries, never write dissolutely, + either in matter or method; but with stern and measured meaning in every + syllable. Here's a bit of first-rate work for example: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Tweed said to Till, + 'What gars ye rin sae still?' + Till said to Tweed, + 'Though ye rin wi' speed, + And I rin slaw, + Whar ye droon ae man, + I droon twa.'"] +</pre> + <p> + but an instance of its farther connection with moral principle struck me + forcibly just at the time when I was most lamenting the absence of art + among the people. In one of the loneliest districts of Scotland, where the + peat cottages are darkest, just at the western foot of that great mass of + the Grampians which encircles the sources of the Spey and the Dee, the + main road which traverses the chain winds round the foot of a broken rock + called Crag, or Craig Ellachie. There is nothing remarkable in either its + height or form; it is darkened with a few scattered pines, and touched + along its summit with a flush of heather; but it constitutes a kind of + headland, or leading promontory, in the group of hills to which it belongs—a + sort of initial letter of the mountains; and thus stands in the mind of + the inhabitants of the district, the Clan Grant, for a type of their + country, and of the influence of that country upon themselves. Their sense + of this is beautifully indicated in the war-cry of the clan, "Stand fast, + Craig Ellachie." You may think long over those few words without + exhausting the deep wells of feeling and thought contained in them—the + love of the native land, the assurance of their faithfulness to it; the + subdued and gentle assertion of indomitable courage—I <i>may</i> + need to be told to stand, but, if I do, Craig Ellachie does. You could not + but have felt, had you passed beneath it at the time when so many of + England's dearest children were being defended by the strength of heart of + men born at its foot, how often among the delicate Indian palaces, whose + marble was pallid with horror, and whose vermilion was darkened with + blood, the remembrance of its rough grey rocks and purple heaths must have + risen before the sight of the Highland soldier; how often the hailing of + the shot and the shriek of battle would pass away from his hearing, and + leave only the whisper of the old pine branches—"Stand fast, Craig + Ellachie!" + </p> + <p> + You have, in these two nations, seen in direct opposition the effects on + moral sentiment of art without nature, and of nature without art. And you + see enough to justify you in suspecting—while, if you choose to + investigate the subject more deeply and with other examples, you will find + enough to justify you in <i>concluding</i>—that art, followed as + such, and for its own sake, irrespective of the interpretation of nature + by it, is destructive of whatever is best and noblest in humanity; but + that nature, however simply observed, or imperfectly known, is, in the + degree of the affection felt for it, protective and helpful to all that is + noblest in humanity. + </p> + <p> + You might then conclude farther, that art, so far as it was devoted to the + record or the interpretation of nature, would be helpful and ennobling + also. + </p> + <p> + And you would conclude this with perfect truth. Let me repeat the + assertion distinctly and solemnly, as the first that I am permitted to + make in this building, devoted in a way so new and so admirable to the + service of the art-students of England—Wherever art is practised for + its own sake, and the delight of the workman is in what he <i>does</i> and + <i>produces</i>, instead of what he <i>interprets</i> or <i>exhibits</i>, + —there art has an influence of the most fatal kind on brain and + heart, and it issues, if long so pursued, in the <i>destruction both of + intellectual power</i> and <i>moral principal</i>; whereas art, devoted + humbly and self- forgetfully to the clear statement and record of the + facts of the universe, is always helpful and beneficent to mankind, full + of comfort, strength, and salvation. + </p> + <p> + Now, when you were once well assured of this, you might logically infer + another thing, namely, that when Art was occupied in the function in which + she was serviceable, she would herself be strengthened by the service, and + when she was doing what Providence without doubt intended her to do, she + would gain in vitality and dignity just as she advanced in usefulness. On + the other hand, you might gather, that when her agency was distorted to + the deception or degradation of mankind, she would herself be equally + misled and degraded—that she would be checked in advance, or + precipitated in decline. + </p> + <p> + And this is the truth also; and holding this clue you will easily and + justly interpret the phenomena of history. So long as Art is steady in the + contemplation and exhibition of natural facts, so long she herself lives + and grows; and in her own life and growth partly implies, partly secures, + that of the nation in the midst of which she is practised. But a time has + always hitherto come, in which, having thus reached a singular perfection, + she begins to contemplate that perfection, and to imitate it, and deduce + rules and forms from it; and thus to forget her duty and ministry as the + interpreter and discoverer of Truth. And in the very instant when this + diversion of her purpose and forgetfulness of her function take place—forgetfulness + generally coincident with her apparent perfection—in that instant, I + say, begins her actual catastrophe; and by her own fall—so far as + she has influence—she accelerates the ruin of the nation by which + she is practised. + </p> + <p> + The study, however, of the effect of art on the mind of nations is one + rather for the historian than for us; at all events it is one for the + discussion of which we have no more time this evening. But I will ask your + patience with me while I try to illustrate, in some further particulars, + the dependence of the healthy state and power of art itself upon the + exercise of its appointed function in the interpretation of fact. + </p> + <p> + You observe that I always say <i>interpretation</i>, never <i>imitation</i>. + My reason for so doing is, first, that good art rarely imitates; it + usually only describes or explains. But my second and chief reason is that + good art always consists of two things: First, the observation of fact; + secondly, the manifesting of human design and authority in the way that + fact is told. Great and good art must unite the two; it cannot exist for a + moment but in their unity; it consists of the two as essentially as water + consists of oxygen and hydrogen, or marble of lime and carbonic acid. + </p> + <p> + Let us inquire a little into the nature of each of the elements. The first + element, we say, is the love of Nature, leading to the effort to observe + and report her truly. And this is the first and leading element. Review + for yourselves the history of art, and you will find this to be a manifest + certainty, that <i>no great school ever yet existed which had not for + primal aim the representation of some natural fact as truly as possible</i>. + There have only yet appeared in the world three schools of perfect art—schools, + that is to say, that did their work as well as it seems possible to do it. + These are the Athenian, [Note: See below, the farther notice of the real + spirit of Greek work, in the address at Bradford.] Florentine, and + Venetian. The Athenian proposed to itself the perfect representation of + the form of the human body. It strove to do that as well as it could; it + did that as well as it can be done; and all its greatness was founded upon + and involved in that single and honest effort. The Florentine school + proposed to itself the perfect expression of human emotion—the + showing of the effects of passion in the human face and gesture. I call + this the Florentine school, because, whether you take Raphael for the + culminating master of expressional art in Italy, or Leonardo, or Michael + Angelo, you will find that the whole energy of the national effort which + produced those masters had its root in Florence; not at Urbino or Milan. I + say, then, this Florentine or leading Italian school proposed to itself + human expression for its aim in natural truth; it strove to do that as + well as it could—did it as well as it can be done—and all its + greatness is rooted in that single and honest effort. Thirdly, the + Venetian school propose the representation of the effect of colour and + shade on all things; chiefly on the human form. It tried to do that as + well as it could—did it as well as it can be done—and all its + greatness is founded on that single and honest effort. + </p> + <p> + Pray, do not leave this room without a perfectly clear holding of these + three ideas. You may try them, and toss them about afterwards, as much as + you like, to see if they'll bear shaking; but do let me put them well and + plainly into your possession. Attach them to three works of art which you + all have either seen or continually heard of. There's the (so-called) + "Theseus" of the Elgin marbles. That represents the whole end and aim of + the Athenian school—the natural form of the human body. All their + conventional architecture—their graceful shaping and painting of + pottery—whatsoever other art they practised—was dependent for + its greatness on this sheet-anchor of central aim: true shape of living + man. Then take, for your type of the Italian school, Raphael's "Disputa + del Sacramento;" that will be an accepted type by everybody, and will + involve no possibly questionable points: the Germans will admit it; the + English academicians will admit it; and the English purists and + pre-Raphaelites will admit it. Well, there you have the truth of human + expression proposed as an aim. That is the way people look when they feel + this or that—when they have this or that other mental character: are + they devotional, thoughtful, affectionate, indignant, or inspired? are + they prophets, saints, priests, or kings? then—whatsoever is truly + thoughtful, affectionate, prophetic, priestly, kingly—<i>that</i> + the Florentine school tried to discern, and show; <i>that</i> they have + discerned and shown; and all their greatness is first fastened in their + aim at this central truth—the open expression of the living human + soul. Lastly, take Veronese's "Marriage in Cana" in the Louvre. There you + have the most perfect representation possible of colour, and light, and + shade, as they affect the external aspect of the human form, and its + immediate accessories, architecture, furniture, and dress. This external + aspect of noblest nature was the first aim of the Venetians, and all their + greatness depended on their resolution to achieve, and their patience in + achieving it. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, are the three greatest schools of the former world exemplified + for you in three well-known works. The Phidian "Theseus" represents the + Greek school pursuing truth of form; the "Disputa" of Raphael, the + Florentine school pursuing truth of mental expression; the "Marriage in + Cana," the Venetian school pursuing truth of colour and light. But do not + suppose that the law which I am stating to you—the great law of + art-life—can only be seen in these, the most powerful of all art + schools. It is just as manifest in each and every school that ever has had + life in it at all. Wheresoever the search after truth begins, there life + begins; wheresoever that search ceases, there life ceases. As long as a + school of art holds any chain of natural facts, trying to discover more of + them and express them better daily, it may play hither and thither as it + likes on this side of the chain or that; it may design grotesques and + conventionalisms, build the simplest buildings, serve the most practical + utilities, yet all it does will be gloriously designed and gloriously + done; but let it once quit hold of the chain of natural fact, cease to + pursue that as the clue to its work; let it propose to itself any other + end than preaching this living word, and think first of showing its own + skill or its own fancy, and from that hour its fall is precipitate—its + destruction sure; nothing that it does or designs will ever have life or + loveliness in it more; its hour has come, and there is no work, nor + device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom in the grave whither it goeth. + </p> + <p> + Let us take for example that school of art over which many of you would + perhaps think this law had but little power—the school of Gothic + architecture. Many of us may have been in the habit of thinking of that + school rather as of one of forms than of facts—a school of + pinnacles, and buttresses, and conventional mouldings, and disguise of + nature by monstrous imaginings—not a school of truth at all. I think + I shall be able, even in the little time we have to-night, to show that + this is not so; and that our great law holds just as good at Amiens and + Salisbury, as it does at Athens and Florence. + </p> + <p> + I will go back then first to the very beginnings of Gothic art, and before + you, the students of Kensington, as an impanelled jury, I will bring two + examples of the barbarism out of which Gothic art emerges, approximately + contemporary in date and parallel in executive skill; but, the one, a + barbarism that did not get on, and could not get on; the other, a + barbarism that could get on, and did get on; and you, the impanelled jury, + shall judge what is the essential difference between the two barbarisms, + and decide for yourselves what is the seed of life in the one, and the + sign of death in the other. + </p> + <p> + The first,—that which has in it the sign of death,—furnishes + us at the same time with an illustration far too interesting to be passed + by, of certain principles much depended on by our common modern designers. + Taking up one of our architectural publications the other day, and opening + it at random, I chanced upon this piece of information, put in rather + curious English; but you shall have it as it stands— + </p> + <p> + "Aristotle asserts, that the greatest species of the beautiful are Order, + Symmetry, and the Definite." + </p> + <p> + I should tell you, however, that this statement is not given as + authoritative; it is one example of various Architectural teachings, given + in a report in the <i>Building Chronicle</i> for May, 1857, of a lecture + on Proportion; in which the only thing the lecturer appears to have proved + was that,— + </p> + <p> + The system of dividing the diameter of the shaft of a column into parts + for copying the ancient architectural remains of Greece and Rome, adopted + by architects from Vitruvius (circa B.C. 25) to the present period, as a + method for producing ancient architecture, <i>is entirely useless</i>, for + the several parts of Grecian architecture cannot be reduced or subdivided + by this system; neither does it apply to the architecture of Rome. + </p> + <p> + Still, as far as I can make it out, the lecture appears to have been one + of those of which you will just at present hear so many, the protests of + architects who have no knowledge of sculpture—or of any other mode + of expressing natural beauty—<i>against</i> natural beauty; and + their endeavour to substitute mathematical proportions for the knowledge + of life they do not possess, and the representation of life of which they + are incapable.[Illustration] Now, this substitution of obedience to + mathematical law for sympathy with observed life, is the first + characteristic of the hopeless work of all ages; as such, you will find it + eminently manifested in the specimen I have to give you of the hopeless + Gothic barbarism; the barbarism from which nothing could emerge—for + which no future was possible but extinction. The Aristotelian principles + of the Beautiful are, you remember, Order, Symmetry, and the Definite. + Here you have the three, in perfection, applied to the ideal of an angel, + in a psalter of the eighth century, existing in the library of St. John's + College, Cambridge.[Note: I copy this woodcut from Westwood's + "Palaeographia Sacra."] + </p> + <p> + Now, you see the characteristics of this utterly dead school are, first + the wilful closing of its eyes to natural facts;—for, however + ignorant a person may be, he need only look at a human being to see that + it has a mouth as well as eyes; and secondly, the endeavour to adorn or + idealize natural fact according to its own notions: it puts red spots in + the middle of the hands, and sharpens the thumbs, thinking to improve + them. Here you have the most pure type possible of the principles of + idealism in all ages: whenever people don't look at Nature, they always + think they can improve her. You will also admire, doubtless, the exquisite + result of the application of our great modern architectural principle of + beauty—symmetry, or equal balance of part by part; you see even the + eyes are made symmetrical—entirely round, instead of irregular, + oval; and the iris is set properly in the middle, instead of—as + nature has absurdly put it—rather under the upper lid. You will also + observe the "principle of the pyramid" in the general arrangement of the + figure, and the value of "series" in the placing of dots. + </p> + <p> + From this dead barbarism we pass to living barbarism—to work done by + hands quite as rude, if not ruder, and by minds as uninformed; and yet + work which in every line of it is prophetic of power, and has in it the + sure dawn of day. You have often heard it said that Giotto was the founder + of art in Italy. He was not: neither he, nor Giunta Pisano, nor Niccolo + Pisano. They all laid strong hands to the work, and brought it first into + aspect above ground; but the foundation had been laid for them by the + builders of the Lombardic churches in the valleys of the Adda and the + Arno. It is in the sculpture of the round arched churches of North Italy, + bearing disputable dates, ranging from the eighth to the twelfth century, + that you will find the lowest struck roots of the art of Titian and + Raphael. [Note: I have said elsewhere, "the root of <i>all</i> art is + struck in the thirteenth century." This is quite true: but of course some + of the smallest fibres run lower, as in this instance.] I go, therefore, + to the church which is certainly the earliest of these, St. Ambrogio, of + Milan, said still to retain some portions of the actual structure from + which St. Ambrose excluded Theodosius, and at all events furnishing the + most archaic examples of Lombardic sculpture in North Italy. I do not + venture to guess their date; they are barbarous enough for any date. + </p> + <p> + We find the pulpit of this church covered with interlacing patterns, + closely resembling those of the manuscript at Cambridge, but among them is + figure sculpture of a very different kind. It is wrought with mere + incisions in the stone, of which the effect may be tolerably given by + single lines in a drawing. Remember, therefore, for a moment—as + characteristic of culminating Italian art—Michael Angelo's fresco of + the "Temptation of Eve," in the Sistine chapel, and you will be more + interested in seeing the birth of Italian art, illustrated by the same + subject, from St. Ambrogio, of Milan, the "Serpent beguiling Eve." [Note: + This cut is ruder than it should be: the incisions in the marble have a + lighter effect than these rough black lines; but it is not worth while to + do it better.] + </p> + <p> + Yet, in that sketch, rude and ludicrous as it is, you have the elements of + life in their first form. The people who could do that were sure to get + on. For, observe, the workman's whole aim is straight at the facts, as + well as he can get them; and not merely at the facts, but at the very + heart of the facts. A common workman might have looked at nature for his + serpent, but he would have thought only of its scales. But this fellow + does not want scales, nor coils; he can do without them; he wants the + serpent's heart—malice and insinuation;—and he has actually + got them to some extent. So also a common workman, even in this barbarous + stage of art, might have carved Eve's arms and body a good deal better; + but this man does not care about arms and body, if he can only get at + Eve's mind—show that she is pleased at being flattered, and yet in a + state of uncomfortable hesitation. And some look of listening, of + complacency, and of embarrassment he has verily got:— note the eyes + slightly askance, the lips compressed, and the right hand nervously + grasping the left arm: nothing can be declared impossible to the people + who could begin thus—the world is open to them, and all that is in + it; while, on the contrary, nothing is possible to the man who did the + symmetrical angel—the world is keyless to him; he has built a cell + for himself in which he must abide, barred up for ever— there is no + more hope for him than for a sponge or a madrepore. + </p> + <p> + I shall not trace from this embryo the progress of Gothic art in Italy, + because it is much complicated and involved with traditions of other + schools, and because most of the students will be less familiar with its + results than with their own northern buildings. So, these two designs + indicating Death and Life in the beginnings of mediaeval art, we will take + an example of the <i>progress</i> of that art from our northern work. Now, + many of you, doubtless, have been interested by the mass, grandeur, and + gloom of Norman architecture, as much as by Gothic traceries; and when you + hear me say that the root of all good work lies in natural facts, you + doubtless think instantly of your round arches, with their rude cushion + capitals, and of the billet or zigzag work by which they are surrounded, + and you cannot see what the knowledge of nature has to do with either the + simple plan or the rude mouldings. But all those simple conditions of + Norman art are merely the expiring of it towards the extreme north. Do not + study Norman architecture in Northumberland, but in Normandy, and then you + will find that it is just a peculiarly manly, and practically useful, form + of the whole great French school of rounded architecture. And where has + that French school its origin? Wholly in the rich conditions of sculpture, + which, rising first out of imitations of the Roman bas-reliefs, covered + all the faēades of the French early churches with one continuous arabesque + of floral or animal life. If you want to study round-arched buildings, do + not go to Durham, but go to Poictiers, and there you will see how all the + simple decorations which give you so much pleasure even in their isolated + application were invented by persons practised in carving men, monsters, + wild animals, birds, and flowers, in overwhelming redundance; and then + trace this architecture forward in central France, and you will find it + loses nothing of its richness—it only gains in truth, and therefore + in grace, until just at the moment of transition into the pointed style, + you have the consummate type of the sculpture of the school given you in + the west front of the Cathedral of Chartres. From that front I have chosen + two fragments to illustrate it. [Note: This part of the lecture was + illustrated by two drawings, made admirably by Mr. J. T. Laing, with the + help of photographs from statues at Chartres. The drawings may be seen at + present at the Kensington Museum: but any large photograph of the west + front of Chartres will enable the reader to follow what is stated in the + lecture, as far as is needful.] + </p> + <p> + These statues have been long, and justly, considered as representative of + the highest skill of the twelfth or earliest part of the thirteenth + century in France; and they indeed possess a dignity and delicate charm, + which are for the most part wanting in later works. It is owing partly to + real nobleness of feature, but chiefly to the grace, mingled with + severity, of the falling lines of excessively <i>thin</i> drapery; as well + as to a most studied finish in composition, every part of the + ornamentation tenderly harmonizing with the rest. So far as their power + over certain tones of religious mind is owing to a palpable degree of + non-naturalism in them, I do not praise it—the exaggerated thinness + of body and stiffness of attitude are faults; but they are noble faults, + and give the statues a strange look of forming part of the very building + itself, and sustaining it—not like the Greek caryatid, without + effort—nor like the Renaissance caryatid, by painful or impossible + effort—but as if all that was silent and stern, and withdrawn apart, + and stiffened in chill of heart against the terror of earth, had passed + into a shape of eternal marble; and thus the Ghost had given, to bear up + the pillars of the church on earth, all the patient and expectant nature + that it needed no more in heaven. This is the transcendental view of the + meaning of those sculptures. I do not dwell upon it. What I do lean upon + is their purely naturalistic and vital power. They are all portraits—unknown, + most of them, I believe, —but palpably and unmistakeably portraits, + if not taken from the actual person for whom the statue stands, at all + events studied from some living person whose features might fairly + represent those of the king or saint intended. Several of them I suppose + to be authentic: there is one of a queen, who has evidently, while she + lived, been notable for her bright black eyes. The sculptor has cut the + iris deep into the stone, and her dark eyes are still suggested with her + smile. + </p> + <p> + There is another thing I wish you to notice specially in these statues + —the way in which the floral moulding is associated with the + vertical lines of the figure. You have thus the utmost complexity and + richness of curvature set side by side with the pure and delicate parallel + lines, and both the characters gain in interest and beauty; but there is + deeper significance in the thing than that of mere effect in composition; + significance not intended on the part of the sculptor, but all the more + valuable because unintentional. I mean the close association of the beauty + of lower nature in animals and flowers, with the beauty of higher nature + in human form. You never get this in Greek work. Greek statues are always + isolated; blank fields of stone, or depths of shadow, relieving the form + of the statue, as the world of lower nature which they despised retired in + darkness from their hearts. Here, the clothed figure seems the type of the + Christian spirit—in many respects feebler and more contracted—but + purer; clothed in its white robes and crown, and with the riches of all + creation at its side. + </p> + <p> + The next step in the change will be set before you in a moment, merely by + comparing this statue from the west front of Chartres with that of the + Madonna, from the south transept door of Amiens. [Note: There are many + photographs of this door and of its central statue. Its sculpture in the + tympanum is farther described in the Fourth Lecture.] + </p> + <p> + This Madonna, with the sculpture round her, represents the culminating + power of Gothic art in the thirteenth century. Sculpture has been gaining + continually in the interval; gaining, simply because becoming every day + more truthful, more tender, and more suggestive. By the way, the old + Douglas motto, "Tender and true," may wisely be taken up again by all of + us, for our own, in art no less than in other things. Depend upon it, the + first universal characteristic of all great art is Tenderness, as the + second is Truth. I find this more and more every day: an infinitude of + tenderness is the chief gift and inheritance of all the truly great men. + It is sure to involve a relative intensity of disdain towards base things, + and an appearance of sternness and arrogance in the eyes of all hard, + stupid, and vulgar people—quite terrific to such, if they are + capable of terror, and hateful to them, if they are capable of nothing + higher than hatred. Dante's is the great type of this class of mind. I say + the first inheritance is Tenderness— the second Truth, because the + Tenderness is in the make of the creature, the Truth in his acquired + habits and knowledge; besides, the love comes first in dignity as well as + in time, and that is always pure and complete: the truth, at best, + imperfect. + </p> + <p> + To come back to our statue. You will observe that the arrangement of this + sculpture is exactly the same as at Chartres—severe falling drapery, + set off by rich floral ornament at the side; but the statue is now + completely animated: it is no longer fixed as an upright pillar, but bends + aside out of its niche, and the floral ornament, instead of being a + conventional wreath, is of exquisitely arranged hawthorn. The work, + however, as a whole, though perfectly characteristic of the advance of the + age in style and purpose, is in some subtler qualities inferior to that of + Chartres. The individual sculptor, though trained in a more advanced + school, has been himself a man of inferior order of mind compared to the + one who worked at Chartres. But I have not time to point out to you the + subtler characters by which I know this. + </p> + <p> + This statue, then, marks the culminating point of Gothic art, because, up + to this time, the eyes of its designers had been steadily fixed on natural + truth—they had been advancing from flower to flower, from form to + form, from face to face,—gaining perpetually in knowledge and + veracity—therefore, perpetually in power and in grace. But at this + point a fatal change came over their aim. From the statue they now began + to turn the attention chiefly to the niche of the statue, and from the + floral ornament to the mouldings that enclosed the floral ornament. The + first result of this was, however, though not the grandest, yet the most + finished of northern genius. You have, in the earlier Gothic, less + wonderful construction, less careful masonry, far less expression of + harmony of parts in the balance of the building. Earlier work always has + more or less of the character of a good solid wall with irregular holes in + it, well carved wherever there is room. But the last phase of good Gothic + has no room to spare; it rises as high as it can on narrowest foundation, + stands in perfect strength with the least possible substance in its bars; + connects niche with niche, and line with line, in an exquisite harmony, + from which no stone can be removed, and to which you can add not a + pinnacle; and yet introduces in rich, though now more calculated + profusion, the living element of its sculpture: sculpture in the + quatrefoils—sculpture in the brackets— sculpture in the + gargoyles—sculpture in the niches—sculpture in the ridges and + hollows of its mouldings,—not a shadow without meaning, and not a + light without life. [Note: The two <i>transepts</i> of Rouen Cathedral + illustrate this style. There are plenty of photographs of them. I take + this opportunity of repeating what I have several times before stated, for + the sake of travellers, that St. Ouen, impressive as it is, is entirely + inferior to the transepts of Rouen Cathedral.] But with this very + perfection of his work came the unhappy pride of the builder in what he + had done. As long as he had been merely raising clumsy walls and carving + them like a child, in waywardness of fancy, his delight was in the things + he thought of as he carved; but when he had once reached this pitch of + constructive science, he began to think only how cleverly he could put the + stones together. The question was not now with him, What can I represent? + but, How high can I build—how wonderfully can I hang this arch in + air, or weave this tracery across the clouds? And the catastrophe was + instant and irrevocable. Architecture became in France a mere web of + waving lines,—in England a mere grating of perpendicular ones. + Redundance was substituted for invention, and geometry for passion; tho + Gothic art became a mere expression of wanton expenditure, and vulgar + mathematics; and was swept away, as it then deserved to be swept away, by + the severer pride, and purer learning, of the schools founded on classical + traditions. + </p> + <p> + You cannot now fail to see, how, throughout the history of this wonderful + art—from its earliest dawn in Lombardy to its last catastrophe in + France and England—sculpture, founded on love of nature, was the + talisman of its existence; wherever sculpture was practised, architecture + arose—wherever that was neglected, architecture expired; and, + believe me, all you students who love this mediaeval art, there is no hope + of your ever doing any good with it, but on this everlasting principle. + Your patriotic associations with it are of no use; your romantic + associations with it—either of chivalry or religion—are of no + use; they are worse than useless, they are false. Gothic is not an art for + knights and nobles; it is an art for the people: it is not an art for + churches or sanctuaries; it is an art for houses and homes: it is not an + art for England only, but an art for the world: above all, it is not an + art of form or tradition only, but an art of vital practice and perpetual + renewal. And whosoever pleads for it as an ancient or a formal thing, and + tries to teach it you as an ecclesiastical tradition or a geometrical + science, knows nothing of its essence, less than nothing of its power. + </p> + <p> + Leave, therefore, boldly, though not irreverently, mysticism and symbolism + on the one side; cast away with utter scorn geometry and legalism on the + other; seize hold of God's hand and look full in the face of His creation, + and there is nothing He will not enable you to achieve. + </p> + <p> + Thus, then, you will find—and the more profound and accurate your + knowledge of the history of art the more assuredly you will find—that + the living power in all the real schools, be they great or small, is love + of nature. But do not mistake me by supposing that I mean this law to be + all that is necessary to form a school. There needs to be much superadded + to it, though there never must be anything superseding it. The main thing + which needs to be superadded is the gift of design. + </p> + <p> + It is always dangerous, and liable to diminish the clearness of + impression, to go over much ground in the course of one lecture. But I + dare not present you with a maimed view of this important subject: I dare + not put off to another time, when the same persons would not be again + assembled, the statement of the great collateral necessity which, as well + as the necessity of truth, governs all noble art. + </p> + <p> + That collateral necessity is <i>the visible operation of human intellect + in the presentation of truth, </i>the evidence of what is properly called + design or plan in the work, no less than of veracity. A looking-glass does + not design—it receives and communicates indiscriminately all that + passes before it; a painter designs when he chooses some things, refuses + others, and arranges all. + </p> + <p> + This selection and arrangement must have influence over everything that + the art is concerned with, great or small—over lines, over colours, + and over ideas. Given a certain group of colours, by adding another colour + at the side of them, you will either improve the group and render it more + delightful, or injure it, and render it discordant and unintelligible. + "Design" is the choosing and placing the colour so as to help and enhance + all the other colours it is set beside. So of thoughts: in a good + composition, every idea is presented in just that order, and with just + that force, which will perfectly connect it with all the other thoughts in + the work, and will illustrate the others as well as receive illustration + from them; so that the entire chain of thoughts offered to the beholder's + mind shall be received by him with as much delight and with as little + effort as is possible. And thus you see design, properly so called, is + human invention, consulting human capacity. Out of the infinite heap of + things around us in the world, it chooses a certain number which it can + thoroughly grasp, and presents this group to the spectator in the form + best calculated to enable him to grasp it also, and to grasp it with + delight. + </p> + <p> + And accordingly, the capacities of both gatherer and receiver being + limited, the object is to make <i>everything that you offer helpful</i> + and precious. If you give one grain of weight too much, so as to increase + fatigue without profit, or bulk without value—that added grain is + hurtful; if you put one spot or one syllable out of its proper place, that + spot or syllable will be destructive—how far destructive it is + almost impossible to tell: a misplaced touch may sometimes annihilate the + labour of hours. Nor are any of us prepared to understand the work of any + great master, till we feel this, and feel it as distinctly as we do the + value of arrangement in the notes of music. Take any noble musical air, + and you find, on examining it, that not one even of the faintest or + shortest notes can be removed without destruction to the whole passage in + which it occurs; and that every note in the passage is twenty times more + beautiful so introduced, than it would have been if played singly on the + instrument. Precisely this degree of arrangement and relation must exist + between every touch [Note: Literally. I know how exaggerated this + statement sounds; but I mean it,—every syllable of it.—See + Appendix IV.] and line in a great picture. You may consider the whole as a + prolonged musical composition: its parts, as separate airs connected in + the story; its little bits and fragments of colour and line, as separate + passages or bars in melodies; and down to the minutest note of the whole—down + to the minutest <i>touch</i>,—if there is one that can be spared—that + one is doing mischief. + </p> + <p> + Remember therefore always, you have two characters in which all greatness + of art consists:—First, the earnest and intense seizing of natural + facts; then the ordering those facts by strength of human intellect, so as + to make them, for all who look upon them, to the utmost serviceable, + memorable, and beautiful. And thus great art is nothing else than the type + of strong and noble life; for, as the ignoble person, in his dealings with + all that occurs in the world about him, first sees nothing clearly,—looks + nothing fairly in the face, and then allows himself to be swept away by + the trampling torrent, and unescapable force, of the things that he would + not foresee, and could not understand: so the noble person, looking the + facts of the world full in the face, and fathoming them with deep faculty, + then deals with them in unalarmed intelligence and unhurried strength, and + becomes, with his human intellect and will, no unconscious nor + insignificant agent, in consummating their good, and restraining their + evil. + </p> + <p> + Thus in human life you have the two fields of rightful toil for ever + distinguished, yet for ever associated; Truth first—plan or design, + founded thereon; so in art, you have the same two fields for ever + distinguished, for ever associated; Truth first—plan, or design, + founded thereon. + </p> + <p> + Now hitherto there is not the least difficulty in the subject; none of you + can look for a moment at any great sculptor or painter without seeing the + full bearing of these principles. But a difficulty arises when you come to + examine the art of a lower order, concerned with furniture and + manufacture, for in that art the element of design enters without, + apparently, the element of truth. You have often to obtain beauty and + display invention without direct representation of nature. Yet, respecting + all these things also, the principle is perfectly simple. If the designer + of furniture, of cups and vases, of dress patterns, and the like, + exercises himself continually in the imitation of natural form in some + leading division of his work; then, holding by this stem of life, he may + pass down into all kinds of merely geometrical or formal design with + perfect safety, and with noble results.[Note: This principle, here + cursorily stated, is one of the chief subjects of inquiry in the following + Lectures.] Thus Giotto, being primarily a figure painter and sculptor, is, + secondarily, the richest of all designers in mere mosaic of coloured bars + and triangles; thus Benvenuto Cellini, being in all the higher branches of + metal work a perfect imitator of nature, is in all its lower branches the + best designer of curve for lips of cups and handles of vases; thus + Holbein, exercised primarily in the noble art of truthful portraiture, + becomes, secondarily, the most exquisite designer of embroideries of robe, + and blazonries on wall; and thus Michael Angelo, exercised primarily in + the drawing of body and limb, distributes in the mightiest masses the + order of his pillars, and in the loftiest shadow the hollows of his dome. + But once quit hold of this living stem, and set yourself to the designing + of ornamentation, either in the ignorant play of your own heartless fancy, + as the Indian does, or according to received application of heartless + laws, as the modern European does, and there is but one word for you—Death:—death + of every healthy faculty, and of every noble intelligence, incapacity of + understanding one great work that man has ever done, or of doing anything + that it shall be helpful for him to behold. You have cut yourselves off + voluntarily, presumptuously, insolently, from the whole teaching of your + Maker in His Universe; you have cut yourselves off from it, not because + you were forced to mechanical labour for your bread—not because your + fate had appointed you to wear away your life in walled chambers, or dig + your life out of dusty furrows; but, when your whole profession, your + whole occupation— all the necessities and chances of your existence, + led you straight to the feet of the great Teacher, and thrust you into the + treasury of His works; where you have nothing to do but to live by gazing, + and to grow by wondering;—wilfully you bind up your eyes from the + splendour— wilfully bind up your life-blood from its beating—wilfully + turn your backs upon all the majesties of Omnipotence—wilfully + snatch your hands from all the aids of love, and what can remain for you, + but helplessness and blindness,—except the worse fate than the being + blind yourselves—that of becoming Leaders of the blind? + </p> + <p> + Do not think that I am speaking under excited feeling, or in any + exaggerated terms. I have written the words I use, that I may know what I + say, and that you, if you choose, may see what I have said. For, indeed, I + have set before you tonight, to the best of my power, the sum and + substance of the system of art to the promulgation of which I have devoted + my life hitherto, and intend to devote what of life may still be spared to + me. I have had but one steady aim in all that I have ever tried to teach, + namely—to declare that whatever was great in human art was the + expression of man's delight in God's work. + </p> + <p> + And at this time I have endeavoured to prove to you—if you + investigate the subject you may more entirely prove to yourselves—that + no school ever advanced far which had not the love of natural fact as a + primal energy. But it is still more important for you to be assured that + the conditions of life and death in the art of nations are also the + conditions of life and death in your own; and that you have it, each in + his power at this very instant, to determine in which direction his steps + are turning. It seems almost a terrible thing to tell you, that all here + have all the power of knowing at once what hope there is for them as + artists; you would, perhaps, like better that there was some unremovable + doubt about the chances of the future—some possibility that you + might be advancing, in unconscious ways, towards unexpected successes—some + excuse or reason for going about, as students do so often, to this master + or the other, asking him if they have genius, and whether they are doing + right, and gathering, from his careless or formal replies, vague flashes + of encouragement, or fitfulnesses of despair. There is no need for this—no + excuse for it. All of you have the trial of yourselves in your own power; + each may undergo at this instant, before his own judgment seat, the ordeal + by fire. Ask yourselves what is the leading motive which actuates you + while you are at work. I do not ask you what your leading motive is for + working—that is a different thing; you may have families to support—parents + to help—brides to win; you may have all these, or other such sacred + and pre-eminent motives, to press the morning's labour and prompt the + twilight thought. But when you are fairly <i>at</i> the work, what is the + motive then which tells upon every touch of it? If it is the love of that + which your work represents—if, being a landscape painter, it is love + of hills and trees that moves you—if, being a figure painter, it is + love of human beauty and human soul that moves you—if, being a + flower or animal painter, it is love, and wonder, and delight in petal and + in limb that move you, then the Spirit is upon you, and the earth is + yours, and the fulness thereof. But if, on the other hand, it is petty + self-complacency in your own skill, trust in precepts and laws, hope for + academical or popular approbation, or avarice of wealth,—it is quite + possible that by steady industry, or even by fortunate chance, you may win + the applause, the position, the fortune, that you desire;— but one + touch of true art you will never lay on canvas or on stone as long as you + live. + </p> + <p> + Make, then, your choice, boldly and consciously, for one way or other it + <i>must</i> be made. On the dark and dangerous side are set, the pride + which delights in self-contemplation—the indolence which rests in + unquestioned forms—the ignorance that despises what is fairest among + God's creatures, and the dulness that denies what is marvellous in His + working: there is a life of monotony for your own souls, and of misguiding + for those of others. And, on the other side, is open to your choice the + life of the crowned spirit, moving as a light in creation— + discovering always—illuminating always, gaining every hour in + strength, yet bowed down every hour into deeper humility; sure of being + right in its aim, sure of being irresistible in its progress; happy in + what it has securely done—happier in what, day by day, it may as + securely hope; happiest at the close of life, when the right hand begins + to forget its cunning, to remember, that there never was a touch of the + chisel or the pencil it wielded, but has added to the knowledge and + quickened the happiness of mankind. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0005" id="link2H_4_0005"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE II. — THE UNITY OF ART. + </h2> + <h3> + <i>Part of an Address delivered at Manchester, 14th March, 1859.</i> + </h3> + <p> + [Note: I was prevented, by press of other engagements, from preparing this + address with the care I wished; and forced to trust to such expression as + I could give at the moment to the points of principal importance; reading, + however, the close of the preceding lecture, which I thought contained + some truths that would bear repetition. The whole was reported, better + than it deserved, by Mr. Pitman, of the <i>Manchester Courier</i>, and + published nearly verbatim. I have here extracted, from the published + report, the facts which I wish especially to enforce; and have a little + cleared their expression; its loose and colloquial character I cannot now + help, unless by re-writing the whole, which it seems not worth while to + do.] + </p> + <p> + It is sometimes my pleasant duty to visit other cities, in the hope of + being able to encourage their art students; but here it is my pleasanter + privilege to come for encouragement myself. I do not know when I have + received so much as from the report read this evening by Mr. Hammersley, + bearing upon a subject which has caused me great anxiety. For I have + always felt in my own pursuit of art, and in my endeavors to urge the + pursuit of art on others, that while there are many advantages now that + never existed before, there are certain grievous difficulties existing, + just in the very cause that is giving the stimulus to art—in the + immense spread of the manufactures of every country which is now attending + vigorously to art. We find that manufacture and art are now going on + always together; that where there is no manufacture there is no art. I + know how much there is of pretended art where there is no manufacture: + there is much in Italy, for instance; no country makes so bold pretence to + the production of new art as Italy at this moment; yet no country produces + so little. If you glance over the map of Europe, you will find that where + the manufactures are strongest, there art also is strongest. And yet I + always felt that there was an immense difficulty to be encountered by the + students who were in these centres of modern movement. They had to avoid + the notion that art and manufacture were in any respect one. Art may be + healthily associated with manufacture, and probably in future will always + be so; but the student must be strenuously warned against supposing that + they can ever be one and the same thing, that art can ever be followed on + the principles of manufacture. Each must be followed separately; the one + must influence the other, but each must be kept distinctly separate from + the other. + </p> + <p> + It would be well if all students would keep clearly in their mind the real + distinction between those words which we use so often, "Manufacture," + "Art," and "Fine Art." "MANUFACTURE" is, according to the etymology and + right use of the word, "the making of anything by hands,"—directly + or indirectly, with or without the help of instruments or machines. + Anything proceeding from the hand of man is manufacture; but it must have + proceeded from his hand only, acting mechanically, and uninfluenced at the + moment by direct intelligence. + </p> + <p> + Then, secondly, ART is the operation of the hand and the intelligence of + man together; there is an art of making machinery; there is an art of + building ships; an art of making carriages; and so on. All these, properly + called Arts, but not Fine Arts, are pursuits in which the hand of man and + his head go together, working at the same instant. + </p> + <p> + Then FINE ART is that in which the hand, the head, and the <i>heart</i> of + man go together. + </p> + <p> + Recollect this triple group; it will help you to solve many difficult + problems. And remember that though the hand must be at the bottom of + everything, it must also go to the top of everything; for Fine Art must be + produced by the hand of man in a much greater and clearer sense than + manufacture is. Fine Art must always be produced by the subtlest of all + machines, which is the human hand. No machine yet contrived, or hereafter + contrivable, will ever equal the fine machinery of the human fingers. + Thoroughly perfect art is that which proceeds from the heart, which + involves all the noble emotions;—associates with these the head, yet + as inferior to the heart; and the hand, yet as inferior to the heart and + head; and thus brings out the whole man. + </p> + <p> + Hence it follows that since Manufacture is simply the operation of the + hand of man in producing that which is useful to him, it essentially + separates itself from the emotions; when emotions interfere with machinery + they spoil it: machinery must go evenly, without emotion. But the Fine + Arts cannot go evenly; they always must have emotion ruling their + mechanism, and until the pupil begins to feel, and until all he does + associates itself with the current of his feeling, he is not an artist. + But pupils in all the schools in this country are now exposed to all kinds + of temptations which blunt their feelings. I constantly feel discouraged + in addressing them because I know not how to tell them boldly what they + ought to do, when I feel how practically difficult it is for them to do + it. There are all sorts of demands made upon them in every direction, and + money is to be made in every conceivable way but the right way. If you + paint as you ought, and study as you ought, depend upon it the public will + take no notice of you for a long while. If you study wrongly, and try to + draw the attention of the public upon you,—supposing you to be + clever students—you will get swift reward; but the reward does not + come fast when it is sought wisely; it is always held aloof for a little + while; the right roads of early life are very quiet ones, hedged in from + nearly all help or praise. But the wrong roads are noisy,—vociferous + everywhere with all kinds of demand upon you for art which is not properly + art at all; and in the various meetings of modern interests, money is to + be made in every way; but art is to be followed only in <i>one</i> way. + That is what I want mainly to say to you, or if not to you yourselves + (for, from what I have heard from your excellent master to-night, I know + you are going on all rightly), you must let me say it through you to + others. Our Schools of Art are confused by the various teaching and + various interests that are now abroad among us. Everybody is talking about + art, and writing about it, and more or less interested in it; everybody + wants art, and there is not art for everybody, and few who talk know what + they are talking about; thus students are led in all variable ways, while + there is only one way in which they can make steady progress, for true art + is always and will be always one. Whatever changes may be made in the + customs of society, whatever new machines we may invent, whatever new + manufactures we may supply, Fine Art must remain what it was two thousand + years ago, in the days of Phidias; two thousand years hence, it will be, + in all its principles, and in all its great effects upon the mind of man, + just the same. Observe this that I say, please, carefully, for I mean it + to the very utmost. <i>There is but one right way of doing any given thing + required of an artist</i>; there may be a hundred wrong, deficient, or + mannered ways, but there is only one complete and right way. Whenever two + artists are trying to do the same thing with the same materials, and do it + in different ways, one of them is wrong; he may be charmingly wrong, or + impressively wrong—various circumstances in his temper may make his + wrong pleasanter than any person's right; it may for him, under his given + limitations of knowledge or temper, be better perhaps that he should err + in his own way than try for anybody else's—but for all that his way + is wrong, and it is essential for all masters of schools to know what the + right way is, and what right art is, and to see how simple and how single + all right art has been, since the beginning of it. + </p> + <p> + But farther, not only is there but one way of <i>doing</i> things rightly, + but there is only one way of <i>seeing</i> them, and that is, seeing the + whole of them, without any choice, or more intense perception of one point + than another, owing to our special idiosyncrasies. Thus, when Titian or + Tintoret look at a human being, they see at a glance the whole of its + nature, outside and in; all that it has of form, of colour, of passion, or + of thought; saintliness, and loveliness; fleshly body, and spiritual + power; grace, or strength, or softness, or whatsoever other quality, those + men will see to the full, and so paint, that, when narrower people come to + look at what they have done, every one may, if he chooses, find his own + special pleasure in the work. The sensualist will find sensuality in + Titian; the thinker will find thought; the saint, sanctity; the colourist, + colour; the anatomist, form; and yet the picture will never be a popular + one in the full sense, for none of these narrower people will find their + special taste so alone consulted, as that the qualities which would ensure + their gratification shall be sifted or separated from others; they are + checked by the presence of the other qualities which ensure the + gratification of other men. Thus, Titian is not soft enough for the + sensualist, Correggio suits him better; Titian is not defined enough for + the formalist,—Leonardo suits him better; Titian is not pure enough + for the religionist,—Raphael suits him better; Titian is not polite + enough for the man of the world,—Vandyke suits him better; Titian is + not forcible enough for the lovers of the picturesque,— Rembrandt + suits him better. So Correggio is popular with a certain set, and Vandyke + with a certain set, and Rembrandt with a certain set. All are great men, + but of inferior stamp, and therefore Vandyke is popular, and Rembrandt is + popular, [Note: And Murillo, of all true painters the narrowest, feeblest, + and most superficial, for those reasons the most popular.] but nobody + cares much at heart about Titian; only there is a strange under-current of + everlasting murmur about his name, which means the deep consent of all + great men that he is greater than they— the consent of those who, + having sat long enough at his feet, have found in that restrained harmony + of his strength there are indeed depths of each balanced power more + wonderful than all those separate manifestations in inferior painters: + that there is a softness more exquisite than Correggio's, a purity loftier + than Leonardo's, a force mightier than Rembrandt's, a sanctity more solemn + even than Raffaelle's. + </p> + <p> + Do not suppose that in saying this of Titian, I am returning to the old + eclectic theories of Bologna; for all those eclectic theories, observe, + were based, not upon an endeavour to unite the various characters of + nature (which it is possible to do), but the various narrownesses of + taste, which it is impossible to do. Rubens is not more vigorous than + Titian, but less vigorous; but because he is so narrow-minded as to enjoy + vigour only, he refuses to give the other qualities of nature, which would + interfere with that vigour and with our perception of it. Again, Rembrandt + is not a greater master of chiaroscuro than Titian;— he is a less + master, but because he is so narrow-minded as to enjoy chiaroscuro only, + he withdraws from you the splendour of hue which would interfere with + this, and gives you only the shadow in which you can at once feel it. + </p> + <p> + Now all these specialties have their own charm in their own way: and there + are times when the particular humour of each man is refreshing to us from + its very distinctness; but the effort to add any other qualities to this + refreshing one instantly takes away the distinctiveness, and therefore the + exact character to be enjoyed in its appeal to a particular humour in us. + Our enjoyment arose from a weakness meeting a weakness, from a partiality + in the painter fitting to a partiality in us, and giving us sugar when we + wanted sugar, and myrrh when we wanted myrrh; but sugar and myrrh are not + meat: and when we want meat and bread, we must go to better men. + </p> + <p> + The eclectic schools endeavoured to unite these opposite partialities and + weaknesses. They trained themselves under masters of exaggeration, and + tried to unite opposite exaggerations. That was impossible. They did not + see that the only possible eclecticism had been already accomplished;—the + eclecticism of temperance, which, by the restraint of force, gains higher + force; and by the self-denial of delight, gains higher delight. This you + will find is ultimately the case with every true and right master; at + first, while we are tyros in art, or before we have earnestly studied the + man in question, we shall see little in him; or perhaps see, as we think, + deficiencies; we shall fancy he is inferior to this man in that, and to + the other man in the other; but as we go on studying him we shall find + that he has got both that and the other; and both in a far higher sense + than the man who seemed to possess those qualities in excess. Thus in + Turner's lifetime, when people first looked at him, those who liked rainy, + weather, said he was not equal to Copley Fielding; but those who looked at + Turner long enough found that he could be much more wet than Copley + Fielding, when he chose. The people who liked force, said that "Turner was + not strong enough for them; he was effeminate; they liked De Wint,—nice + strong tone;—or Cox—great, greeny, dark masses of colour—solemn + feeling of the freshness and depth of nature;—they liked Cox—Turner + was too hot for them." Had they looked long enough they would have found + that he had far more force than De Wint, far more freshness than Cox when + he chose,—only united with other elements; and that he didn't choose + to be cool, if nature had appointed the weather to be hot. The people who + liked Prout said "Turner had not firmness of hand—he did not know + enough about architecture—he was not picturesque enough." Had they + looked at his architecture long, they would have found that it contained + subtle picturesquenesses, infinitely more picturesque than anything of + Prout's. People who liked Callcott said that "Turner was not correct or + pure enough—had no classical taste." Had they looked at Turner long + enough they would have found him as severe, when he chose, as the greater + Poussin;—Callcott, a mere vulgar imitator of other men's high + breeding. And so throughout with all thoroughly great men, their strength + is not seen at first, precisely because they unite, in due place and + measure, every great quality. + </p> + <p> + Now the question is, whether, as students, we are to study only these + mightiest men, who unite all greatness, or whether we are to study the + works of inferior men, who present us with the greatness which we + particularly like? That question often comes before me when I see a strong + idiosyncrasy in a student, and he asks me what he should study. Shall I + send him to a true master, who does not present the quality in a prominent + way in which that student delights, or send him to a man with whom he has + direct sympathy? It is a hard question. For very curious results have + sometimes been brought out, especially in late years, not only by students + following their own bent, but by their being withdrawn from teaching + altogether. I have just named a very great man in his own field—Prout. + We all know his drawings, and love them: they have a peculiar character + which no other architectural drawings ever possessed, and which no others + can possess, because all Prout's subjects are being knocked down or + restored. (Prout did not like restored buildings any more than I do.) + There will never be any more Prout drawings. Nor could he have been what + he was, or expressed with that mysteriously effective touch that peculiar + delight in broken and old buildings, unless he had been withdrawn from all + high art influence. You know that Prout was born of poor parents—that + he was educated down in Cornwall;—and that, for many years, all the + art- teaching he had was his own, or the fishermen's. Under the keels of + the fishing-boats, on the sands of our southern coasts, Prout learned all + that he needed to learn about art. Entirely by himself, he felt his way to + this particular style, and became the painter of pictures which I think we + should all regret to lose. It becomes a very difficult question what that + man would have been, had he been brought under some entirely wholesome + artistic influence, He had immense gifts of composition. I do not know any + man who had more power of invention than Prout, or who had a sublimer + instinct in his treatment of things; but being entirely withdrawn from all + artistical help, he blunders his way to that short-coming representation, + which, by the very reason of its short-coming, has a certain charm we + should all be sorry to lose. And therefore I feel embarrassed when a + student comes to me, in whom I see a strong instinct of that kind: and + cannot tell whether I ought to say to him, "Give up all your studies of + old boats, and keep away from the sea-shore, and come up to the Royal + Academy in London, and look at nothing but Titian." It is a difficult + thing to make up one's mind to say that. However, I believe, on the whole, + we may wisely leave such matters in the hands of Providence; that if we + have the power of teaching the right to anybody, we should teach them the + right; if we have the power of showing them the best thing, we should show + them the best thing; there will always, I fear, be enough want of + teaching, and enough bad teaching, to bring out very curious erratical + results if we want them. So, if we are to teach at all, let us teach the + right thing, and ever the right thing. There are many attractive qualities + inconsistent with rightness;—do not let us teach them,—let us + be content to waive them. There are attractive qualities in Burns, and + attractive qualities in Dickens, which neither of those writers would have + possessed if the one had been educated, and the other had been studying + higher nature than that of cockney London; but those attractive qualities + are not such as we should seek in a school of literature. If we want to + teach young men a good manner of writing, we should teach it from + Shakspeare,—not from Burns; from Walter Scott,— and not from + Dickens. And I believe that our schools of painting are at present + inefficient in their action, because they have not fixed on this high + principle what are the painters to whom to point; nor boldly resolved to + point to the best, if determinable. It is becoming a matter of stern + necessity that they should give a simple direction to the attention of the + student, and that they should say, "This is the mark you are to aim at; + and you are not to go about to the print-shops, and peep in, to see how + this engraver does that, and the other engraver does the other, and how a + nice bit of character has been caught by a new man, and why this odd + picture has caught the popular attention. You are to have nothing to do + with all that; you are not to mind about popular attention just now; but + here is a thing which is eternally right and good: you are to look at + that, and see if you cannot do something eternally right and good too." + </p> + <p> + But suppose you accept this principle: and resolve to look to some great + man, Titian, or Turner, or whomsoever it may be, as the model of + perfection in art;—then the question is, since this great man + pursued his art in Venice, or in the fields of England, under totally + different conditions from those possible to us now—how are you to + make your study of him effective here in Manchester? how bring it down + into patterns, and all that you are called upon as operatives to produce? + how make it the means of your livelihood, and associate inferior branches + of art with this great art? That may become a serious doubt to you. You + may think there is some other way of producing clever, and pretty, and + saleable patterns than going to look at Titian, or any other great man. + And that brings me to the question, perhaps the most vexed question of all + amongst us just now, between conventional and perfect art. You know that + among architects and artists there are, and have been almost always, since + art became a subject of much discussion, two parties, one maintaining that + nature should be always altered and modified, and that the artist is + greater than nature; they do not maintain, indeed, in words, but they + maintain in idea, that the artist is greater than the Divine Maker of + these things, and can improve them; while the other party say that he + cannot improve nature, and that nature on the whole should improve him. + That is the real meaning of the two parties, the essence of them; the + practical result of their several theories being that the Idealists are + always producing more or less formal conditions of art, and the Realists + striving to produce in all their art either some image of nature, or + record of nature; these, observe, being quite different things, the image + being a resemblance, and the record, something which will give information + about nature, but not necessarily imitate it. + </p> + <p> + [Note: The portion of the lecture here omitted was a recapitulation of + that part of the previous one which opposed conventional art to natural + art.] + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + You may separate these two groups of artists more distinctly in your mind + as those who seek for the pleasure of art, in the relations of its colours + and lines, without caring to convey any truth with it; and those who seek + for the truth first, and then go down from the truth to the pleasure of + colour and line. Marking those two bodies distinctly as separate, and + thinking over them, you may come to some rather notable conclusions + respecting the mental dispositions which are involved in each mode of + study. You will find that large masses of the art of the world fall + definitely under one or the other of these heads. Observe, pleasure first + and truth afterwards, (or not at all,) as with the Arabians and Indians; + or, truth first and pleasure afterwards, as with Angelico and all other + great European painters. You will find that the art whose end is pleasure + only is pre-eminently the gift of cruel and savage nations, cruel in + temper, savage in habits and conception; but that the art which is + especially dedicated to natural fact always indicates a peculiar + gentleness and tenderness of mind, and that all great and successful work + of that kind will assuredly be the production of thoughtful, sensitive, + earnest, kind men, large in their views of life, and full of various + intellectual power. And farther, when you examine the men in whom the + gifts of art are variously mingled, or universally mingled, you will + discern that the ornamental, or pleasurable power, though it may be + possessed by good men, is not in itself an indication of their goodness, + but is rather, unless balanced by other faculties, indicative of violence + of temper, inclining to cruelty and to irreligion. On the other hand, so + sure as you find any man endowed with a keen and separate faculty of + representing natural fact, so surely you will find that man gentle and + upright, full of nobleness and breadth of thought. I will give you two + instances, the first peculiarly English, and another peculiarly + interesting because it occurs among a nation not generally very kind or + gentle. + </p> + <p> + I am inclined to think that, considering all the disadvantages of + circumstances and education under which his genius was developed, there + was perhaps hardly ever born a man with a more intense and innate gift of + insight into nature than our own Sir Joshua Reynolds. Considered as a + painter of individuality in the human form and mind, I think him, even as + it is, the prince of portrait painters. Titian paints nobler pictures, and + Vandyke had nobler subjects, but neither of them entered so subtly as Sir + Joshua did into the minor varieties of human heart and temper; arid when + you consider that, with a frightful conventionality of social habitude all + around him, he yet conceived the simplest types of all feminine and + childish loveliness;—that in a northern climate, and with gray, and + white, and black, as the principal colours around him, he yet became a + colourist who can be crushed by none, even of the Venetians;—and + that with Dutch painting and Dresden china for the prevailing types of art + in the saloons of his day, he threw himself at once at the feet of the + great masters of Italy, and arose from their feet to share their throne—I + know not that in the whole history of art you can produce another instance + of so strong, so unaided, so unerring an instinct for all that was true, + pure, and noble. + </p> + <p> + Now, do you recollect the evidence respecting the character of this man,—the + two points of bright peculiar evidence given by the sayings of the two + greatest literary men of his day, Johnson and Goldsmith? Johnson, who, as + you know, was always Reynolds' attached friend, had but one complaint to + make against him, that he hated nobody:— "Reynolds," he said, "you + hate no one living; I like a good hater!" Still more significant is the + little touch in Goldsmith's "Retaliation." You recollect how in that poem + he describes the various persons who met at one of their dinners at St. + James's Coffee-house, each person being described under the name of some + appropriate dish. You will often hear the concluding lines about Reynolds + Quoted— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "He shifted his trumpet," &c;— +</pre> + <p> + less often, or at least less attentively, the preceding ones, far more + important— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Still born to improve us in every part— + His pencil our faces, his <i>manners our heart;</i>" +</pre> + <p> + and never, the most characteristic touch of all, near the beginning:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Our dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains; + Our Burke shall be tongue, with a garnish of brains. + To make out the dinner, full certain I am, + That Rich is anchovy, and Reynolds is <i>lamb</i>." +</pre> + <p> + The other painter whom I would give you as an instance of this gentleness + is a man of another nation, on the whole I suppose one of the most cruel + civilized nations in the world—the Spaniards. They produced but one + great painter, only one; but he among the very greatest of painters, + Velasquez. You would not suppose, from looking at Velasquez' portraits + generally, that he was an especially kind or good man; you perceive a + peculiar sternness about them; for they were as true as steel, and the + persons whom he had to paint being not generally kind or good people, they + were stern in expression, and Velasquez gave the sternness; but he had + precisely the same intense perception of truth, the same marvellous + instinct for the rendering of all natural soul and all natural form that + our Reynolds had. Let me, then, read you his character as it is given by + Mr. Stirling, of Kier:— + </p> + <p> + "Certain charges, of what nature we are not informed, brought against him + after his death, made it necessary for his executor, Fuensalida, to refute + them at a private audience granted to him by the king for that purpose. + After listening to the defence of his friend, Philip immediately made + answer: 'I can believe all you say of the excellent disposition of Diego + Velasquez.' Having lived for half his life in courts, he was yet capable + both of gratitude and generosity, and in the misfortunes, he could + remember the early kindness of Olivares. The friend of the exile of + Loeches, it is just to believe that he was also the friend of the + all-powerful favourite at Buenretiro. No mean jealousy ever influenced his + conduct to his brother artists; he could afford not only to acknowledge + the merits, but to forgive the malice, of his rivals. His character was of + that <i>rare and happy kind, in which high intellectual power is combined + with indomitable strength of will, and a winning sweetness of temper</i>, + and which seldom fails to raise the possessor above his fellow-men, making + his life a + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'laurelled victory, and smooth success + Be strewed before his feet.'" +</pre> + <p> + I am sometimes accused of trying to make art too moral; yet, observe, I do + not say in the least that in order to be a good painter you must be a good + man; but I do say that in order to be a good natural painter there must be + strong elements of good in the mind, however warped by other parts of the + character. There are hundreds of other gifts of painting which are not at + all involved with moral conditions, but this one, the perception of + nature, is never given but under certain moral conditions. Therefore, now + you have it in your choice; here are your two paths for you: it is + required of you to produce conventional ornament, and you may approach the + task as the Hindoo does, and as the Arab did,—without nature at all, + with the chance of approximating your disposition somewhat to that of the + Hindoos and Arabs; or as Sir Joshua and Velasquez did, with, not the + chance, but the certainty, of approximating your disposition, according to + the sincerity of your effort—to the disposition of those great and + good men. + </p> + <p> + And do you suppose you will lose anything by approaching your conventional + art from this higher side? Not so. I called, with deliberate measurement + of my expression, long ago, the decoration of the Alhambra "detestable," + not merely because indicative of base conditions of moral being, but + because merely as decorative work, however captivating in some respects, + it is wholly wanting in the real, deep, and intense qualities of + ornamental art. Noble conventional decoration belongs only to three + periods. First, there is the conventional decoration of the Greeks, used + in subordination to their sculpture. There are then the noble conventional + decoration of the early Gothic schools, and the noble conventional + arabesque of the great Italian schools. All these were reached from above, + all reached by stooping from a knowledge of the human form. Depend upon it + you will find, as you look more and more into the matter, that good + subordinate ornament has ever been rooted in a higher knowledge; and if + you are again to produce anything that is noble, you must have the higher + knowledge first, and descend to all lower service; condescend as much as + you like,—condescension never does any man any harm,—but get + your noble standing first. So, then, without any scruple, whatever branch + of art you may be inclined as a student here to follow,—whatever you + are to make your bread by, I say, so far as you have time and power, make + yourself first a noble and accomplished artist; understand at least what + noble and accomplished art is, and then you will be able to apply your + knowledge to all service whatsoever. + </p> + <p> + I am now going to ask your permission to name the masters whom I think it + would be well if we could agree, in our Schools of Art in England, to + consider our leaders. The first and chief I will not myself presume to + name; he shall be distinguished for you by the authority of those two + great painters of whom we have just been speaking—Reynolds and + Velasquez. You may remember that in your Manchester Art Treasures + Exhibition the most impressive things were the works of those two men— + nothing told upon the eye so much; no other pictures retained it with such + a persistent power. Now, I have the testimony, first of Reynolds to + Velasquez, and then of Velasquez to the man whom I want you to take as the + master of all your English schools. The testimony of Reynolds to Velasquez + is very striking. I take it from some fragments which have just been + published by Mr. William Cotton—precious fragments—of + Reynolds' diaries, which I chanced upon luckily as I was coming down here: + for I was going to take Velasquez' testimony alone, and then fell upon + this testimony of Reynolds to Velasquez, written most fortunately in + Reynolds' own hand-you may see the manuscript. "What <i>we</i> are all," + said Reynolds, "attempting to do with great labor, Velasquez does at + once." Just think what is implied when a man of the enormous power and + facility that Reynolds had, says he was "trying to do with great labor" + what Velasquez "did at once." + </p> + <p> + Having thus Reynolds' testimony to Velasquez, I will take Velasquez' + testimony to somebody else. You know that Velasquez was sent by Philip of + Spain to Italy, to buy pictures for him. He went all over Italy, saw the + living artists there, and all their best pictures when freshly painted, so + that he had every opportunity of judging; and never was a man so capable + of judging. He went to Rome and ordered various works of living artists; + and while there, he was one day asked by Salvator Rosa what he thought of + Raphael. His reply, and the ensuing conversation, are thus reported by + Boschini, in curious Italian verse, which, thus translated by Dr. + Donaldson, is quoted in Mr. Stirling's Life of Velasquez:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "The master" [Velasquez] "stiffly bowed his figure tall + And said, 'For Rafael, to speak the truth— + I always was plain-spoken from my youth— + I cannot say I like his works at all.' + + "'Well,' said the other" [Salvator], 'if you can run down + So great a man, I really cannot see + What you can find to like in Italy; + To him we all agree to give the crown.' + + "Diego answered thus: 'I saw in Venice + The true test of the good and beautiful; + First in my judgment, ever stands that school, + And Titian first of all Italian men is.'" + + "<i>Tizian ze quel die porta la bandiera</i>" +</pre> + <p> + Learn that line by heart and act, at all events for some time to come, + upon Velasquez' opinion in that matter. Titian is much the safest master + for you. Raphael's power, such as it characters in his mind; it is + "Raphaelesque," properly so called; but Titian's power is simply the power + of doing right. Whatever came before Titian, he did wholly as it <i>ought</i> + to be done. Do not suppose that now in recommending Titian to you so + strongly, and speaking of nobody else to-night, I am retreating in anywise + from what some of you may perhaps recollect in my works, the enthusiasm + with which I have always spoken of another Venetian painter. There are + three Venetians who are never separated in my mind—Titian, Veronese, + and Tintoret. They all have their own unequalled gifts, and Tintoret + especially has imagination and depth of soul which I think renders him + indisputably the greatest man; but, equally indisputably, Titian is the + greatest painter; and therefore the greatest painter who ever lived. You + may be led wrong by Tintoret [Note: See Appendix I.—"Right and + Wrong."] in many respects, wrong by Raphael in more; all that you learn + from Titian will be right. Then, with Titian, take Leonardo, Rembrandt, + and Albert Dürer. I name those three masters for this reason: Leonardo has + powers of subtle drawing which are peculiarly applicable in many ways to + the drawing of fine ornament, and are very useful for all students. + Rembrandt and Dürer are the only men whose actual work of hand you can + have to look at; you can have Rembrandt's etchings, or Dürer's engravings + actually hung in your schools; and it is a main point for the student to + see the real thing, and avoid judging of masters at second-hand. As, + however, in obeying this principle, you cannot often have opportunities of + studying Venetian painting, it is desirable that you should have a useful + standard of colour, and I think it is possible for you to obtain this. I + cannot, indeed, without entering upon ground which might involve the + hurting the feelings of living artists, state exactly what I believe to be + the relative position of various painters in England at present with + respect to power of colour. But I may say this, that in the peculiar gifts + of colour which will be useful to you as students, there are only one or + two of the pre-Raphaelites, and William Hunt, of the old Water Colour + Society, who would be safe guides for you: and as quite a safe guide, + there is nobody but William Hunt, because the pre-Raphaelites are all more + or less affected by enthusiasm and by various morbid conditions of + intellect and temper; but old William Hunt—I am sorry to say "old," + but I say it in a loving way, for every year that has added to his life + has added also to his skill—William Hunt is as right as the + Venetians, as far as he goes, and what is more, nearly as inimitable as + they. And I think if we manage to put in the principal schools of England + a little bit of Hunt's work, and make that somewhat of a standard of + colour, that we can apply his principles of colouring to subjects of all + kinds. Until you have had a work of his long near you; nay, unless you + have been labouring at it, and trying to copy it, you do not know the + thoroughly grand qualities that are concentrated in it. Simplicity, and + intensity, both of the highest character;— simplicity of aim, and + intensity of power and success, are involved in that man's unpretending + labour. + </p> + <p> + Finally, you cannot believe that I would omit my own favourite, Turner. I + fear from the very number of his works left to the nation, that there is a + disposition now rising to look upon his vast bequest with some contempt. I + beg of you, if in nothing else, to believe me in this, that you cannot + further the art of England in any way more distinctly than by giving + attention to every fragment that has been left by that man. The time will + come when his full power and right place will be acknowledged; that time + will not be for many a day yet: nevertheless, be assured—as far as + you are inclined to give the least faith to anything I may say to you, be + assured—that you can act for the good of art in England in no better + way than by using whatever influence any of you have in any direction to + urge the reverent study and yet more reverent preservation of the works of + Turner. I do not say "the exhibition" of his works, for we are not + altogether ripe for it: they are still too far above us; uniting, as I was + telling you, too many qualities for us yet to feel fully their range and + their influence;— but let us only try to keep them safe from harm, + and show thoroughly and conveniently what we show of them at all, and day + by day their greatness will dawn upon us more and more, and be the root of + a school of art in England, which I do not doubt may be as bright, as + just, and as refined as even that of Venice herself. The dominion of the + sea seems to have been associated, in past time, with dominion in the arts + also: Athens had them together; Venice had them together; but by so much + as our authority over the ocean is wider than theirs over the Ęgean or + Adriatic, let us strive to make our art more widely beneficent than + theirs, though it cannot be more exalted; so working out the fulfilment, + in their wakening as well as their warning sense, of those great words of + the aged Tintoret: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + "Sempre si fa il mare maggiore." +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0006" id="link2H_4_0006"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE III. — MODERN MANUFACTURE AND DESIGN. + </h2> + <h3> + <i>A Lecture delivered at Bradford, March, 1859</i>. + </h3> + <p> + It is with a deep sense of necessity for your indulgence that I venture to + address you to-night, or that I venture at any time to address the pupils + of schools of design intended for the advancement of taste in special + branches of manufacture. No person is able to give useful and definite + help towards such special applications of art, unless he is entirely + familiar with the conditions of labour and natures of material involved in + the work; and indefinite help is little better than no help at all. Nay, + the few remarks which I propose to lay before you this evening will, I + fear, be rather suggestive of difficulties than helpful in conquering + them: nevertheless, it may not be altogether unserviceable to define + clearly for you (and this, at least, I am able to do) one or two of the + more stern general obstacles which stand at present in the way of our + success in design; and to warn you against exertion of effort in any vain + or wasteful way, till these main obstacles are removed. + </p> + <p> + The first of these is our not understanding the scope and dignity of + Decorative design. With all our talk about it, the very meaning of the + words "Decorative art" remains confused and undecided. I want, if + possible, to settle this question for you to-night, and to show you that + the principles on which you must work are likely to be false, in + proportion as they are narrow; true, only as they are founded on a + perception of the connection of all branches of art with each other. + </p> + <p> + Observe, then, first—the only essential distinction between + Decorative and other art is the being fitted for a fixed place; and in + that place, related, either in subordination or command, to the effect of + other pieces of art. And all the greatest art which the world has produced + is thus fitted for a place, and subordinated to a purpose. There is no + existing highest-order art but is decorative. The best sculpture yet + produced has been the decoration of a temple front—the best + painting, the decoration of a room. Raphael's best doing is merely the + wall- colouring of a suite of apartments in the Vatican, and his cartoons + were made for tapestries. Correggio's best doing is the decoration of two + small church cupolas at Parma; Michael Angelo's of a ceiling in the Pope's + private chapel; Tintoret's, of a ceiling and side wall belonging to a + charitable society at Venice; while Titian and Veronese threw out their + noblest thoughts, not even on the inside, but on the outside of the common + brick and plaster walls of Venice. + </p> + <p> + Get rid, then, at once of any idea of Decorative art being a degraded or a + separate kind of art. Its nature or essence is simply its being fitted for + a definite place; and, in that place, forming part of a great and + harmonious whole, in companionship with other art; and so far from this + being a degradation to it—so far from Decorative art being inferior + to other art because it is fixed to a spot—on the whole it may be + considered as rather a piece of degradation that it should be portable. + Portable art—independent of all place—is for the most part + ignoble art. Your little Dutch landscape, which you put over your + sideboard to-day, and between the windows tomorrow, is a far more + contemptible piece of work than the extents of field and forest with which + Benozzo has made green and beautiful the once melancholy arcade of the + Campo Santo at Pisa; and the wild boar of silver which you use for a seal, + or lock into a velvet case, is little likely to be so noble a beast as the + bronze boar who foams forth the fountain from under his tusks in the + market-place of Florence. It is, indeed, possible that the portable + picture or image may be first-rate of its kind, but it is not first-rate + because it is portable; nor are Titian's frescoes less than first-rate + because they are fixed; nay, very frequently the highest compliment you + can pay to a cabinet picture is to say—"It is as grand as a fresco." + </p> + <p> + Keeping, then, this fact fixed in our minds,—that all art <i>may</i> + be decorative, and that the greatest art yet produced has been decorative,—we + may proceed to distinguish the orders and dignities of decorative art, + thus:— + </p> + <p> + I. The first order of it is that which is meant for places where it cannot + be disturbed or injured, and where it can be perfectly seen; and then the + main parts of it should be, and have always been made, by the great + masters, as perfect, and as full of nature as possible. + </p> + <p> + You will every day hear it absurdly said that room decoration should be by + flat patterns—by dead colours—by conventional monotonies, and + I know not what. Now, just be assured of this—nobody ever yet used + conventional art to decorate with, when he could do anything better, and + knew that what he did would be safe. Nay, a great painter will always give + you the natural art, safe or not. Correggio gets a commission to paint a + room on the ground floor of a palace at Parma: any of our people—bred + on our fine modern principles—would have covered it with a diaper, + or with stripes or flourishes, or mosaic patterns. Not so Correggio: he + paints a thick trellis of vine-leaves, with oval openings, and lovely + children leaping through them into the room; and lovely children, depend + upon it, are rather more desirable decorations than diaper, if you can do + them—but they are not quite so easily done. In like manner Tintoret + has to paint the whole end of the Council Hall at Venice. An orthodox + decorator would have set himself to make the wall look like a wall—Tintoret + thinks it would be rather better, if he can manage it, to make it look a + little like Paradise;— stretches his canvas right over the wall, and + his clouds right over his canvas; brings the light through his clouds—all + blue and clear—zodiac beyond zodiac; rolls away the vaporous flood + from under the feet of saints, leaving them at last in infinitudes of + light—unorthodox in the last degree, but, on the whole, pleasant. + </p> + <p> + And so in all other cases whatever, the greatest decorative art is wholly + unconventional—downright, pure, good painting and sculpture, but + always fitted for its place; and subordinated to the purpose it has to + serve in that place. + </p> + <p> + II. But if art is to be placed where it is liable to injury—to wear + and tear; or to alteration of its form; as, for instance, on domestic + utensils, and armour, and weapons, and dress; in which either the ornament + will be worn out by the usage of the thing, or will be cast into altered + shape by the play of its folds; then it is wrong to put beautiful and + perfect art to such uses, and you want forms of inferior art, such as will + be by their simplicity less liable to injury; or, by reason of their + complexity and continuousness, may show to advantage, however distorted by + the folds they are cast into. + </p> + <p> + And thus arise the various forms of inferior decorative art, respecting + which the general law is, that the lower the place and office of the + thing, the less of natural or perfect form you should have in it; a zigzag + or a chequer is thus a better, because a more consistent ornament for a + cup or platter than a landscape or portrait is: hence the general + definition of the true forms of conventional ornament is, that they + consist in the bestowal of as much beauty on the object as shall be + consistent with its Material, its Place, and its Office. + </p> + <p> + Let us consider these three modes of consistency a little. + </p> + <p> + (A.) Conventionalism by cause of inefficiency of material. + </p> + <p> + If, for instance, we are required to represent a human figure with stone + only, we cannot represent its colour; we reduce its colour to whiteness. + That is not elevating the human body, but degrading it; only it would be a + much greater degradation to give its colour falsely. Diminish beauty as + much as you will, but do not misrepresent it. So again, when we are + sculpturing a face, we can't carve its eyelashes. The face is none the + better for wanting its eyelashes—it is injured by the want; but + would be much more injured by a clumsy representation of them. + </p> + <p> + Neither can we carve the hair. We must be content with the conventionalism + of vile solid knots and lumps of marble, instead of the golden cloud that + encompasses the fair human face with its waving mystery. The lumps of + marble are not an elevated representation of hair—they are a + degraded one; yet better than any attempt to imitate hair with the + incapable material. + </p> + <p> + In all cases in which such imitation is attempted, instant degradation to + a still lower level is the result. For the effort to imitate shows that + the workman has only a base and poor conception of the beauty of the + reality—else he would know his task to be hopeless, and give it up + at once; so that all endeavours to avoid conventionalism, when the + material demands it, result from insensibility to truth, and are among the + worst forms of vulgarity. Hence, in the greatest Greek statues, the hair + is very slightly indicated—not because the sculptor disdained hair, + but because he knew what it was too well to touch it insolently. I do not + doubt but that the Greek painters drew hair exactly as Titian does. Modern + attempts to produce finished pictures on glass result from the same base + vulgarism. No man who knows what painting means, can endure a painted + glass window which emulates painter's work. But he rejoices in a glowing + mosaic of broken colour: for that is what the glass has the special gift + and right of producing. [Note: See Appendix II., Sir Joshua Reynolds's + disappointment.] + </p> + <p> + (B.) Conventionalism by cause of inferiority of place. + </p> + <p> + When work is to be seen at a great distance, or in dark places, or in some + other imperfect way, it constantly becomes necessary to treat it coarsely + or severely, in order to make it effective. The statues on cathedral + fronts, in good times of design, are variously treated according to their + distances: no fine execution is put into the features of the Madonna who + rules the group of figures above the south transept of Rouen at 150 feet + above the ground; but in base modern work, as Milan Cathedral, the + sculpture is finished without any reference to distance; and the merit of + every statue is supposed to consist in the visitor's being obliged to + ascend three hundred steps before he can see it. + </p> + <p> + (C.) Conventionalism by cause of inferiority of office. + </p> + <p> + When one piece of ornament is to be subordinated to another (as the + moulding is to the sculpture it encloses, or the fringe of a drapery to + the statue it veils), this inferior ornament needs to be degraded in order + to mark its lower office; and this is best done by refusing, more or less, + the introduction of natural form. The less of nature it contains, the more + degraded is the ornament, and the fitter for a humble place; but, however + far a great workman may go in refusing the higher organisms of nature, he + always takes care to retain the magnificence of natural lines; that is to + say, of the infinite curves, such as I have analyzed in the fourth volume + of "Modern Painters." His copyists, fancying that they can follow him + without nature, miss precisely the essence of all the work; so that even + the simplest piece of Greek conventional ornament loses the whole of its + value in any modern imitation of it, the finer curves being always missed. + Perhaps one of the dullest and least justifiable mistakes which have yet + been made about my writing, is the supposition that I have attacked or + despised Greek work. I have attacked Palladian work, and modern imitation + of Greek work. Of Greek work itself I have never spoken but with a + reverence quite infinite: I name Phidias always in exactly the same tone + with which I speak of Michael Angelo, Titian, and Dante. My first + statement of this faith, now thirteen years ago, was surely clear enough. + "We shall see by this light three colossal images standing up side by + side, looming in their great rest of spirituality above the whole world + horizon. Phidias, Michael Angelo, and Dante,—from these we may go + down step by step among the mighty men of every age, securely and + certainly observant of diminished lustre in every appearance of + restlessness and effort, until the last trace of inspiration vanishes in + the tottering affectation or tortured insanities of modern times." + ("Modern Painters," vol. ii., p. 253.) This was surely plain speaking + enough, and from that day to this my effort has been not less continually + to make the heart of Greek work known than the heart of Gothic: namely, + the nobleness of conception of form derived from perpetual study of the + figure; and my complaint of the modern architect has been not that he + followed the Greeks, but that he denied the first laws of life in theirs + as in all other art. + </p> + <p> + The fact is, that all good subordinate forms of ornamentation ever yet + existent in the world have been invented, and others as beautiful can only + be invented, by men primarily exercised in drawing or carving the human + figure. I will not repeat here what I have already twice insisted upon, to + the students of London and Manchester, respecting the degradation of + temper and intellect which follows the pursuit of art without reference to + natural form, as among the Asiatics: here, I will only trespass on your + patience so far as to mark the inseparable connection between + figure-drawing and good ornamental work, in the great European schools, + and all that are connected with them. + </p> + <p> + Tell me, then, first of all, what ornamental work is usually put before + our students as the type of decorative perfection? Raphael's arabesques; + are they not? Well, Raphael knew a little about the figure, I suppose, + before he drew them. I do not say that I like those arabesques; but there + are certain qualities in them which are inimitable by modern designers; + and those qualities are just the fruit of the master's figure study. What + is given the student as next to Raphael's work? Cinquecento ornament + generally. Well, cinquecento generally, with its birds, and cherubs, and + wreathed foliage, and clustered fruit, was the amusement of men who + habitually and easily carved the figure, or painted it. All the truly fine + specimens of it have figures or animals as main parts of the design. + </p> + <p> + "Nay, but," some anciently or medięvally minded person will exclaim, "we + don't want to study cinquecento. We want severer, purer conventionalism." + What will you have? Egyptian ornament? Why, the whole mass of it is made + up of multitudinous human figures in every kind of action—and + magnificent action; their kings drawing their bows in their chariots, + their sheaves of arrows rattling at their shoulders; the slain falling + under them as before a pestilence; their captors driven before them in + astonied troops; and do you expect to imitate Egyptian ornament without + knowing how to draw the human figure? Nay, but you will take Christian + ornament—purest mediaeval Christian—thirteenth century! Yes: + and do you suppose you will find the Christian less human? The least + natural and most purely conventional ornament of the Gothic schools is + that of their painted glass; and do you suppose painted glass, in the fine + times, was ever wrought without figures? We have got into the way, among + our other modern wretchednesses, of trying to make windows of leaf + diapers, and of strips of twisted red and yellow bands, looking like the + patterns of currant jelly on the top of Christmas cakes; but every + casement of old glass contained a saint's history. The windows of Bourges, + Chartres, or Rouen have ten, fifteen, or twenty medallions in each, and + each medallion contains two figures at least, often six or seven, + representing every event of interest in the history of the saint whose + life is in question. Nay, but, you say those figures are rude and quaint, + and ought not to be imitated. Why, so is the leafage rude and quaint, yet + you imitate that. The coloured border pattern of geranium or ivy leaf is + not one whit better drawn, or more like geraniums and ivy, than the + figures are like figures; but you call the geranium leaf idealized—why + don't you call the figures so? The fact is, neither are idealized, but + both are conventionalized on the same principles, and in the same way; and + if you want to learn how to treat the leafage, the only way is to learn + first how to treat the figure. And you may soon test your powers in this + respect. Those old workmen were not afraid of the most familiar subjects. + The windows of Chartres were presented by the trades of the town, and at + the bottom of each window is a representation of the proceedings of the + tradesmen at the business which enabled them to pay for the window. There + are smiths at the forge, curriers at their hides, tanners looking into + their pits, mercers selling goods over the counter—all made into + beautiful medallions. Therefore, whenever you want to know whether you + have got any real power of composition or adaptation in ornament, don't be + content with sticking leaves together by the ends,—anybody can do + that; but try to conventionalize a butcher's or a greengrocer's, with + Saturday night customers buying cabbage and beef. That will tell you if + you can design or not. + </p> + <p> + I can fancy your losing patience with me altogether just now. "We asked + this fellow down to tell our workmen how to make shawls, and he is only + trying to teach them how to caricature." But have a little patience with + me, and examine, after I have done, a little for yourselves into the + history of ornamental art, and you will discover why I do this. You will + discover, I repeat, that all great ornamental art whatever is founded on + the effort of the workman to draw the figure, and, in the best schools, to + draw all that he saw about him in living nature. The best art of pottery + is acknowledged to be that of Greece, and all the power of design + exhibited in it, down to the merest zigzag, arises primarily from the + workman having been forced to outline nymphs and knights; from those + helmed and draped figures he holds his power. Of Egyptian ornament I have + just spoken. You have everything given there that the workman saw; people + of his nation employed in hunting, fighting, fishing, visiting, making + love, building, cooking—everything they did is drawn, magnificently + or familiarly, as was needed. In Byzantine ornament, saints, or animals + which are types of various spiritual power, are the main subjects; and + from the church down to the piece of enamelled metal, figure,—figure,—figure, + always principal. In Norman and Gothic work you have, with all their quiet + saints, also other much disquieted persons, hunting, feasting, fighting, + and so on; or whole hordes of animals racing after each other. In the + Bayeux tapestry, Queen Matilda gave, as well as she could,—in many + respects graphically enough,—the whole history of the conquest of + England. Thence, as you increase in power of art, you have more and more + finished figures, up to the solemn sculptures of Wells Cathedral, or the + cherubic enrichments of the Venetian Madonna dei Miracoli. Therefore, I + will tell you fearlessly, for I know it is true, you must raise your + workman up to life, or you will never get from him one line of + well-imagined conventionalism. We have at present no good ornamental + design. We can't have it yet, and we must be patient if we want to have + it. Do not hope to feel the effect of your schools at once, but raise the + men as high as you can, and then let them stoop as low as you need; no + great man ever minds stooping. Encourage the students, in sketching + accurately and continually from nature anything that comes in their way—still + life, flowers, animals; but, above all, figures; and so far as you allow + of any difference between an artist's training and theirs, let it be, not + in what they draw, but in the degree of conventionalism you require in the + sketch. + </p> + <p> + For my own part, I should always endeavour to give thorough artistical + training first; but I am not certain (the experiment being yet untried) + what results may be obtained by a truly intelligent practice of + conventional drawing, such as that of the Egyptians, Greeks, or thirteenth + century French, which consists in the utmost possible rendering of natural + form by the fewest possible lines. The animal and bird drawing of the + Egyptians is, in their fine age, quite magnificent under its conditions; + magnificent in two ways—first, in keenest perception of the main + forms and facts in the creature; and, secondly, in the grandeur of line by + which their forms are abstracted and insisted on, making every asp, ibis, + and vulture a sublime spectre of asp or ibis or vulture power. The way for + students to get some of this gift again (<i>some</i> only, for I believe + the fulness of the gift itself to be connected with vital superstition, + and with resulting intensity of reverence; people were likely to know + something about hawks and ibises, when to kill one was to be irrevocably + judged to death) is never to pass a day without drawing some animal from + the life, allowing themselves the fewest possible lines and colours to do + it with, but resolving that whatever is characteristic of the animal shall + in some way or other be shown. [Note: Plate 75 in Vol. V. of Wilkinson's + "Ancient Egypt" will give the student an idea of how to set to work.] I + repeat, it cannot yet be judged what results might be obtained by a nobly + practised conventionalism of this kind; but, however that may be, the + first fact,—the necessity of animal and figure drawing, is + absolutely certain, and no person who shrinks from it will ever become a + great designer. + </p> + <p> + One great good arises even from the first step in figure drawing, that it + gets the student quit at once of the notion of formal symmetry. If you + learn only to draw a leaf well, you are taught in some of our schools to + turn it the other way, opposite to itself; and the two leaves set opposite + ways are called "a design:" and thus it is supposed possible to produce + ornamentation, though you have no more brains than a looking-glass or a + kaleidoscope has. But if you once learn to draw the human figure, you will + find that knocking two men's heads together does not necessarily + constitute a good design; nay, that it makes a very bad design, or no + design at all; and you will see at once that to arrange a group of two or + more figures, you must, though perhaps it may be desirable to balance, or + oppose them, at the same time vary their attitudes, and make one, not the + reverse of the other, but the companion of the other. + </p> + <p> + I had a somewhat amusing discussion on this subject with a friend, only + the other day; and one of his retorts upon me was so neatly put, and + expresses so completely all that can either be said or shown on the + opposite side, that it is well worth while giving it you exactly in the + form it was sent to me. My friend had been maintaining that the essence of + ornament consisted in three things:—contrast, series, and symmetry. + I replied (by letter) that "none of them, nor all of them together, would + produce ornament. Here"—(making a ragged blot with the back of my + pen on the paper)—"you have contrast; but it isn't ornament: here, + 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6,"—(writing the numerals)—"You have series; + but it isn't ornament: and here,"—(sketching a rough but symmetrical + "stick- figure" sketch of a human body at the side)—"you have + symmetry; but it isn't ornament." + </p> + <p> + My friend replied:— + </p> + <p> + "Your materials were not ornament, because you did not apply them. I send + them to you back, made up into a choice sporting neckerchief:" + </p> + + +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + Symmetrical figure Unit of diaper. + Contrast Corner ornaments. + Series Border ornaments. +</pre> + <p> + "Each figure is converted into a harmony by being revolved on its two + axes, the whole opposed in contrasting series." + </p> + <p> + My answer was—or rather was to the effect (for I must expand it a + little, here)—that his words, "because you did not apply them," + contained the gist of the whole matter;—that the application of + them, or any other things, was precisely the essence of design; the non- + application, or wrong application, the negation of design: that his use of + the poor materials was in this case admirable; and that if he could + explain to me, in clear words, the principles on which he had so used + them, he would be doing a very great service to all students of art. + </p> + <p> + "Tell me, therefore (I asked), these main points: + </p> + <p> + "1. How did you determine the number of figures you would put into the + neckerchief? Had there been more, it would have been mean and ineffective,—a + pepper-and-salt sprinkling of figures. Had there been fewer, it would have + been monstrous. How did you fix the number? + </p> + <p> + "2. How did you determine the breadth of the border and relative size of + the numerals? + </p> + <p> + "3. Why are there two lines outside of the border, and one only inside? + Why are there no more lines? Why not three and two, or three and five? Why + lines at all to separate the barbarous figures; and why, if lines at all, + not double or treble instead of single? + </p> + <p> + "4. Why did you put the double blots at the corners? Why not at the angles + of the chequers,—or in the middle of the border? + </p> + <p> + "It is precisely your knowing why <i>not</i> to do these things, and why + to do just what you have done, which constituted your power of design; and + like all the people I have ever known who had that power, you are entirely + unconscious of the essential laws by which you work, and confuse other + people by telling them that the design depends on symmetry and series, + when, in fact, it depends entirely on your own sense and judgment." + </p> + <p> + This was the substance of my last answer—to which (as I knew + beforehand would be the case) I got no reply; but it still remains to be + observed that with all the skill and taste (especially involving the + architect's great trust, harmony of proportion), which my friend could + bring to bear on the materials given him, the result is still only—a + sporting neckerchief—that is to say, the materials addressed, first, + to recklessness, in the shape of a mere blot; then to computativeness in a + series of figures; and then to absurdity and ignorance, in the shape of an + ill-drawn caricature—such materials, however treated, can only work + up into what will please reckless, computative, and vulgar persons,—that + is to say, into a sporting neckerchief. The difference between this piece + of ornamentation and Correggio's painting at Parma lies simply and wholly + in the additions (somewhat large ones), of truth and of tenderness: in the + drawing being lovely as well as symmetrical— and representative of + realities as well as agreeably disposed. And truth, tenderness, and + inventive application or disposition are indeed the roots of ornament—not + contrast, nor symmetry. + </p> + <p> + It ought yet farther to be observed, that <i>the nobler the materials, the + less their symmetry is endurable</i>. In the present case, the sense of + fitness and order, produced by the repetition of the figures, neutralizes, + in some degree, their reckless vulgarity; and is wholly, therefore, + beneficent to them. But draw the figures better, and their repetition will + become painful. You may harmlessly balance a mere geometrical form, and + oppose one quatrefoil or cusp by another exactly like it. But put two + Apollo Belvideres back to back, and you will not think the symmetry + improves them. <i>Whenever the materials of ornament are noble, they must + be various</i>; and repetition of parts is either the sign of utterly bad, + hopeless, and base work; or of the intended degradation of the parts in + which such repetition is allowed, in order to foil others more noble. + </p> + <p> + Such, then, are a few of the great principles, by the enforcement of which + you may hope to promote the success of the modern student of design; but + remember, none of these principles will be useful at all, unless you + understand them to be, in one profound and stern sense, useless. [Note: I + shall endeavour for the future to put my self- contradictions in short + sentences and direct terms, in order to save sagacious persons the trouble + of looking for them.] + </p> + <p> + That is to say, unless you feel that neither you nor I, nor any one, can, + in the great ultimate sense, teach anybody how to make a good design. + </p> + <p> + If designing <i>could</i> be taught, all the world would learn: as all the + world reads—or calculates. But designing is not to be spelled, nor + summed. My men continually come to me, in my drawing class in London, + thinking I am to teach them what is instantly to enable them to gain their + bread. "Please, sir, show us how to design." "Make designers of us." And + you, I doubt not, partly expect me to tell you to-night how to make + designers of your Bradford youths. Alas! I could as soon tell you how to + make or manufacture an ear of wheat, as to make a good artist of any kind. + I can analyze the wheat very learnedly for you—tell you there is + starch in it, and carbon, and silex. I can give you starch, and charcoal, + and flint; but you are as far from your ear of wheat as you were before. + All that can possibly be done for any one who wants ears of wheat is to + show them where to find grains of wheat, and how to sow them, and then, + with patience, in Heaven's time, the ears will come—or will perhaps + come—ground and weather permitting. So in this matter of making + artists—first you must find your artist in the grain; then you must + plant him; fence and weed the field about him; and with patience, ground + and weather permitting, you may get an artist out of him—not + otherwise. And what I have to speak to you about, tonight, is mainly the + ground and the weather, it being the first and quite most material + question in this matter, whether the ground and weather of Bradford, or + the ground and weather of England in general,—suit wheat. + </p> + <p> + And observe in the outset, it is not so much what the present + circumstances of England are, as what we wish to make them, that we have + to consider. If you will tell me what you ultimately intend Bradford to + be, perhaps I can tell you what Bradford can ultimately produce. But you + must have your minds clearly made up, and be distinct in telling me what + you do want. At present I don't know what you are aiming at, and possibly + on consideration you may feel some doubt whether you know yourselves. As + matters stand, all over England, as soon as one mill is at work, occupying + two hundred hands, we try, by means of it, to set another mill at work, + occupying four hundred. That is all simple and comprehensive enough—but + what is it to come to? How many mills do we want? or do we indeed want no + end of mills? Let us entirely understand each other on this point before + we go any farther. Last week, I drove from Rochdale to Bolton Abbey; + quietly, in order to see the country, and certainly it was well worth + while. I never went over a more interesting twenty miles than those + between Rochdale and Burnley. Naturally, the valley has been one of the + most beautiful in the Lancashire hills; one of the far away solitudes, + full of old shepherd ways of life. At this time there are not,—I + speak deliberately, and I believe quite literally,—there are not, I + think, more than a thousand yards of road to be traversed anywhere, + without passing a furnace or mill. + </p> + <p> + Now, is that the kind of thing you want to come to everywhere? Because, if + it be, and you tell me so distinctly, I think I can make several + suggestions to-night, and could make more if you give me time, which would + materially advance your object. The extent of our operations at present is + more or less limited by the extent of coal and ironstone, but we have not + yet learned to make proper use of our clay. Over the greater part of + England, south of the manufacturing districts, there are magnificent beds + of various kinds of useful clay; and I believe that it would not be + difficult to point out modes of employing it which might enable us to turn + nearly the whole of the south of England into a brickfield, as we have + already turned nearly the whole of the north into a coal-pit. I say + "nearly" the whole, because, as you are doubtless aware, there are + considerable districts in the south composed of chalk renowned up to the + present time for their downs and mutton. But, I think, by examining + carefully into the conceivable uses of chalk, we might discover a quite + feasible probability of turning all the chalk districts into a limekiln, + as we turn the clay districts into a brickfield. There would then remain + nothing but the mountain districts to be dealt with; but, as we have not + yet ascertained all the uses of clay and chalk, still less have we + ascertained those of stone; and I think, by draining the useless inlets of + the Cumberland, Welsh, and Scotch lakes, and turning them, with their + rivers, into navigable reservoirs and canals, there would be no difficulty + in working the whole of our mountain districts as a gigantic quarry of + slate and granite, from which all the rest of the world might be supplied + with roofing and building stone. + </p> + <p> + Is this, then, what you want? You are going straight at it at present; and + I have only to ask under what limitations I am to conceive or describe + your final success? Or shall there be no limitations? There are none to + your powers; every day puts new machinery at your disposal, and increases, + with your capital, the vastness of your undertakings. The changes in the + state of this country are now so rapid, that it would be wholly absurd to + endeavour to lay down laws of art education for it under its present + aspect and circumstances; and therefore I must necessarily ask, how much + of it do you seriously intend within the next fifty years to be coal-pit, + brickfield, or quarry? For the sake of distinctness of conclusion, I will + suppose your success absolute: that from shore to shore the whole of the + island is to be set as thick with chimneys as the masts stand in the docks + of Liverpool: and there shall be no meadows in it; no trees; no gardens; + only a little corn grown upon the housetops, reaped and threshed by steam: + that you do not leave even room for roads, but travel either over the + roofs of your mills, on viaducts; or under their floors, in tunnels: that, + the smoke having rendered the light of the sun unserviceable, you work + always by the light of your own gas: that no acre of English ground shall + be without its shaft and its engine; and therefore, no spot of English + ground left, on which it shall be possible to stand, without a definite + and calculable chance of being blown off it, at any moment, into small + pieces. + </p> + <p> + Under these circumstances, (if this is to be the future of England,) no + designing or any other development of beautiful art will be possible. Do + not vex your minds, nor waste your money with any thought or effort in the + matter. Beautiful art can only be produced by people who have beautiful + things about them, and leisure to look at them; and unless you provide + some elements of beauty for your workmen to be surrounded by, you will + find that no elements of beauty can be invented by them. + </p> + <p> + I was struck forcibly by the bearing of this great fact upon our modern + efforts at ornamentation in an afternoon walk, last week, in the suburbs + of one of our large manufacturing towns. I was thinking of the difference + in the effect upon the designer's mind, between the scene which I then + came upon, and the scene which would have presented itself to the eyes of + any designer of the middle ages, when he left his workshop. Just outside + the town I came upon an old English cottage, or mansion, I hardly know + which to call it, set close under the hill, and beside the river, perhaps + built somewhere in the Charles's time, with mullioned windows and a low + arched porch; round which, in the little triangular garden, one can + imagine the family as they used to sit in old summer times, the ripple of + the river heard faintly through the sweetbrier hedge, and the sheep on the + far-off wolds shining in the evening sunlight. There, uninhabited for many + and many a year, it had been left in unregarded havoc of ruin; the + garden-gate still swung loose to its latch; the garden, blighted utterly + into a field of ashes, not even a weed taking root there; the roof torn + into shapeless rents; the shutters hanging about the windows in rags of + rotten wood; before its gate, the stream which had gladdened it now + soaking slowly by, black as ebony, and thick with curdling scum; the bank + above it trodden into unctuous, sooty slime: far in front of it, between + it and the old hills, the furnaces of the city foaming forth perpetual + plague of sulphurous darkness; the volumes of their storm clouds coiling + low over a waste of grassless fields, fenced from each other, not by + hedges, but by slabs of square stone, like gravestones, riveted together + with iron. + </p> + <p> + That was your scene for the designer's contemplation in his afternoon walk + at Rochdale. Now fancy what was the scene which presented itself, in his + afternoon walk, to a designer of the Gothic school of Pisa—Nino + Pisano, or any of his men. + </p> + <p> + On each side of a bright river he saw rise a line of brighter palaces, + arched and pillared, and inlaid with deep red porphyry, and with + serpentine; along the quays before their gates were riding troops of + knights, noble in face and form, dazzling in crest and shield; horse and + man one labyrinth of quaint colour and gleaming light—the purple, + and silver, and scarlet fringes flowing over the strong limbs and clashing + mail, like sea-waves over rocks at sunset. Opening on each side from the + river were gardens, courts, and cloisters; long successions of white + pillars among wreaths of vine; leaping of fountains through buds of + pomegranate and orange: and still along the garden-paths, and under and + through the crimson of the pomegranate shadows, moving slowly, groups of + the fairest women that Italy ever saw—fairest, because purest and + thoughtfullest; trained in all high knowledge, as in all courteous art—in + dance, in song, in sweet wit, in lofty learning, in loftier courage, in + loftiest love—able alike to cheer, to enchant, or save, the souls of + men. Above all this scenery of perfect human life, rose dome and + bell-tower, burning with white alabaster and gold; beyond dome and + bell-tower the slopes of mighty hills, hoary with olive; far in the north, + above a purple sea of peaks of solemn Apennine, the clear, sharp-cloven + Carrara mountains sent up their steadfast flames of marble summit into + amber sky; the great sea itself, scorching with expanse of light, + stretching from their feet to the Gorgonian isles; and over all these, + ever present, near or far— seen through the leaves of vine, or + imaged with all its march of clouds in the Arno's stream, or set with its + depth of blue close against the golden hair and burning cheek of lady and + knight,—that untroubled and sacred sky, which was to all men, in + those days of innocent faith, indeed the unquestioned abode of spirits, as + the earth was of men; and which opened straight through its gates of cloud + and veils of dew into the awfulness of the eternal world;—a heaven + in which every cloud that passed was literally the chariot of an angel, + and every ray of its Evening and Morning streamed from the throne of God. + </p> + <p> + What think you of that for a school of design? + </p> + <p> + I do not bring this contrast before you as a ground of hopelessness in our + task; neither do I look for any possible renovation of the Republic of + Pisa, at Bradford, in the nineteenth century; but I put it before you in + order that you may be aware precisely of the kind of difficulty you have + to meet, and may then consider with yourselves how far you can meet it. To + men surrounded by the depressing and monotonous circumstances of English + manufacturing life, depend upon it, design is simply impossible. This is + the most distinct of all the experiences I have had in dealing with the + modern workman. He is intelligent and ingenious in the highest degree—subtle + in touch and keen in sight: but he is, generally speaking, wholly + destitute of designing power. And if you want to give him the power, you + must give him the materials, and put him in the circumstances for it. + Design is not the offspring of idle fancy: it is the studied result of + accumulative observation and delightful habit. Without observation and + experience, no design— without peace and pleasurableness in + occupation, no design—and all the lecturings, and teachings, and + prizes, and principles of art, in the world, are of no use, so long as you + don't surround your men with happy influences and beautiful things. It is + impossible for them to have right ideas about colour, unless they see the + lovely colours of nature unspoiled; impossible for them to supply + beautiful incident and action in their ornament, unless they see beautiful + incident and action in the world about them. Inform their minds, refine + their habits, and you form and refine their designs; but keep them + illiterate, uncomfortable, and in the midst of unbeautiful things, and + whatever they do will still be spurious, vulgar, and valueless. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, that I do not ask you nor wish you to build a new Pisa for them. + We don't want either the life or the decorations of the thirteenth century + back again; and the circumstances with which you must surround your + workmen are those simply of happy modern English life, because the designs + you have now to ask for from your workmen are such as will make modern + English life beautiful. All that gorgeousness of the middle ages, + beautiful as it sounds in description, noble as in many respects it was in + reality, had, nevertheless, for foundation and for end, nothing but the + pride of life—the pride of the so-called superior classes; a pride + which supported itself by violence and robbery, and led in the end to the + destruction both of the arts themselves and the States in which they + nourished. + </p> + <p> + The great lesson of history is, that all the fine arts hitherto—having + been supported by the selfish power of the noblesse, and never having + extended their range to the comfort or the relief of the mass of the + people—the arts, I say, thus practised, and thus matured, have only + accelerated the ruin of the States they adorned; and at the moment when, + in any kingdom, you point to the triumphs of its greatest artists, you + point also to the determined hour of the kingdom's decline. The names of + great painters are like passing bells: in the name of Velasquez, you hear + sounded the fall of Spain; in the name of Titian, that of Venice; in the + name of Leonardo, that of Milan; in the name of Raphael, that of Rome. And + there is profound justice in this; for in proportion to the nobleness of + the power is the guilt of its use for purposes vain or vile; and hitherto + the greater the art, the more surely has it been used, and used solely, + for the decoration of pride, [Note: Whether religious or profane pride,—chapel + or banqueting room,—is no matter.] or the provoking of sensuality. + Another course lies open to us. We may abandon the hope—or if you + like the words better—we may disdain the temptation, of the pomp and + grace of Italy in her youth. For us there can be no more the throne of + marble—for us no more the vault of gold—but for us there is + the loftier and lovelier privilege of bringing the power and charm of art + within the reach of the humble and the poor; and as the magnificence of + past ages failed by its narrowness and its pride, ours may prevail and + continue, by its universality and its lowliness. + </p> + <p> + And thus, between the picture of too laborious England, which we imagined + as future, and the picture of too luxurious Italy, which we remember in + the past, there may exist—there will exist, if we do our duty—an + intermediate condition, neither oppressed by labour nor wasted in vanity—the + condition of a peaceful and thoughtful temperance in aims, and acts, and + arts. + </p> + <p> + We are about to enter upon a period of our world's history in which + domestic life, aided by the arts of peace, will slowly, but at last + entirely, supersede public life and the arts of war. For our own England, + she will not, I believe, be blasted throughout with furnaces; nor will she + be encumbered with palaces. I trust she will keep her green fields, her + cottages, and her homes of middle life; but these ought to be, and I trust + will be enriched with a useful, truthful, substantial form of art. We want + now no more feasts of the gods, nor martyrdoms of the saints; we have no + need of sensuality, no place for superstition, or for costly insolence. + Let us have learned and faithful historical painting—touching and + thoughtful representations of human nature, in dramatic painting; poetical + and familiar renderings of natural objects and of landscape; and rational, + deeply-felt realizations of the events which are the subjects of our + religious faith. And let these things we want, as far as possible, be + scattered abroad and made accessible to all men. + </p> + <p> + So also, in manufacture: we require work substantial rather than rich in + make; and refined, rather than splendid in design. Your stuffs need not be + such as would catch the eye of a duchess; but they should be such as may + at once serve the need, and refine the taste, of a cottager. The + prevailing error in English dress, especially among the lower orders, is a + tendency to flimsiness and gaudiness, arising mainly from the awkward + imitation of their superiors. [Note: If their superiors would give them + simplicity and economy to imitate, it would, in the issue, be well for + themselves, as well as for those whom they guide. The typhoid fever of + passion for dress, and all other display, which has struck the upper + classes of Europe at this time, is one of the most dangerous political + elements we have to deal with. Its wickedness I have shown elsewhere + (Polit. Economy of Art, p. 62, <i>et seq.</i>); but its wickedness is, in + the minds of most persons, a matter of no importance. I wish I had time + also to show them its danger. I cannot enter here into political + investigation; but this is a certain fact, that the wasteful and vain + expenses at present indulged in by the upper classes are hastening the + advance of republicanism more than any other element of modern change. No + agitators, no clubs, no epidemical errors, ever were, or will be, fatal to + social order in any nation. Nothing but the guilt of the upper classes, + wanton, accumulated, reckless, and merciless, ever overthrows them Of such + guilt they have now much to answer for—let them look to it in time.] + It should be one of the first objects of all manufacturers to produce + stuffs not only beautiful and quaint in design, but also adapted for + every-day service, and decorous in humble and secluded life. And you must + remember always that your business, as manufacturers, is to form the + market, as much as to supply it. If, in shortsighted and reckless + eagerness for wealth, you catch at every humour of the populace as it + shapes itself into momentary demand—if, in jealous rivalry with + neighbouring States, or with other producers, you try to attract attention + by singularities, novelties, and gaudinesses—to make every design an + advertisement, and pilfer every idea of a successful neighbour's, that you + may insidiously imitate it, or pompously eclipse —no good design + will ever be possible to you, or perceived by you. You may, by accident, + snatch the market; or, by energy, command it; you may obtain the + confidence of the public, and cause the ruin of opponent houses; or you + may, with equal justice of fortune, be ruined by them. But whatever + happens to you, this, at least, is certain, that the whole of your life + will have been spent in corrupting public taste and encouraging public + extravagance. Every preference you have won by gaudiness must have been + based on the purchaser's vanity; every demand you have created by novelty + has fostered in the consumer a habit of discontent; and when you retire + into inactive life, you may, as a subject of consolation for your + declining years, reflect that precisely according to the extent of your + past operations, your life has been successful in retarding the arts,—tarnishing + the virtues, and confusing the manners of your country. + </p> + <p> + But, on the other hand, if you resolve from the first that, so far as you + can ascertain or discern what is best, you will produce what is best, on + an intelligent consideration of the probable tendencies and possible + tastes of the people whom you supply, you may literally become more + influential for all kinds of good than many lecturers on art, or many + treatise-writers on morality. Considering the materials dealt with, and + the crude state of art knowledge at the time, I do not know that any more + wide or effective influence in public taste was ever exercised than that + of the Staffordshire manufacture of pottery under William Wedgwood, and it + only rests with the manufacturer in every other business to determine + whether he will, in like manner, make his wares educational instruments, + or mere drugs of the market. You all should, be, in a certain sense, + authors: you must, indeed, first catch the public eye, as an author must + the public ear; but once gain your audience, or observance, and as it is + in the writer's power thenceforward to publish what will educate as it + amuses—so it is in yours to publish what will educate as it adorns. + Nor is this surely a subject of poor ambition. I hear it said continually + that men are too ambitious: alas! to me, it seems they are never enough + ambitious. How many are content to be merely the thriving merchants of a + state, when they might be its guides, counsellors, and rulers—wielding + powers of subtle but gigantic beneficence, in restraining its follies + while they supplied its wants. Let such duty, such ambition, be once + accepted in their fulness, and the best glory of European art and of + European manufacture may yet be to come. The paintings of Raphael and of + Buonaroti gave force to the falsehoods of superstition, and majesty to the + imaginations of sin; but the arts of England may have, for their task, to + inform the soul with truth, and touch the heart with compassion. The steel + of Toledo and the silk of Genoa did but give strength to oppression and + lustre to pride: let it be for the furnace and for the loom of England, as + they have already richly earned, still more abundantly to bestow, comfort + on the indigent, civilization on the rude, and to dispense, through the + peaceful homes of nations, the grace and the preciousness of simple + adornment, and useful possession. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0007" id="link2H_4_0007"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE IV. — INFLUENCE OF IMAGINATION IN ARCHITECTURE + </h2> + <p> + <i>An Address Delivered to the Members of the Architectural Association, + in Lyon's Inn Hall, 1857.</i> + </p> + <p> + If we were to be asked abruptly, and required to answer briefly, what + qualities chiefly distinguish great artists from feeble artists, we should + answer, I suppose, first, their sensibility and tenderness; secondly, + their imagination; and thirdly, their industry. Some of us might, perhaps, + doubt the justice of attaching so much importance to this last character, + because we have all known clever men who were indolent, and dull men who + were industrious. But though you may have known clever men who were + indolent, you never knew a great man who was so; and, during such + investigation as I have been able to give to the lives of the artists + whose works are in all points noblest, no fact ever looms so large upon me—no + law remains so steadfast in the universality of its application, as the + fact and law that they are all great workers: nothing concerning them is + matter of more astonishment than the quantity they have accomplished in + the given length of their life; and when I hear a young man spoken of, as + giving promise of high genius, the first question I ask about him is + always— + </p> + <p> + Does he work? + </p> + <p> + But though this quality of industry is essential to an artist, it does not + in anywise make an artist; many people are busy, whose doings are little + worth. Neither does sensibility make an artist; since, as I hope, many can + feel both strongly and nobly, who yet care nothing about art. But the + gifts which distinctively mark the artist—<i>without</i> which he + must be feeble in life, forgotten in death—<i>with</i> which he may + become one of the shakers of the earth, and one of the signal lights in + heaven—are those of sympathy and imagination. I will not occupy your + time, nor incur the risk of your dissent, by endeavouring to give any + close definition of this last word. We all have a general and sufficient + idea of imagination, and of its work with our hands and in our hearts: we + understand it, I suppose, as the imaging or picturing of new things in our + thoughts; and we always show an involuntary respect for this power, + wherever we can recognize it, acknowledging it to be a greater power than + manipulation, or calculation, or observation, or any other human faculty. + If we see an old woman spinning at the fireside, and distributing her + thread dexterously from the distaff, we respect her for her manipulation—if + we ask her how much she expects to make in a year, and she answers + quickly, we respect her for her calculation—if she is watching at + the same time that none of her grandchildren fall into the fire, we + respect her for her observation—yet for all this she may still be a + commonplace old woman enough. But if she is all the time telling her + grandchildren a fairy tale out of her head, we praise her for her + imagination, and say, she must be a rather remarkable old woman. Precisely + in like manner, if an architect does his working-drawing well, we praise + him for his manipulation—if he keeps closely within his contract, we + praise him for his honest arithmetic—if he looks well to the laying + of his beams, so that nobody shall drop through the floor, we praise him + for his observation. But he must, somehow, tell us a fairy tale out of his + head beside all this, else we cannot praise him for his imagination, nor + speak of him as we did of the old woman, as being in any wise out of the + common way, a rather remarkable architect. It seemed to me, therefore, as + if it might interest you to-night, if we were to consider together what + fairy tales are, in and by architecture, to be told—what there is + for you to do in this severe art of yours "out of your heads," as well as + by your hands. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the first idea which a young architect is apt to be allured by, as + a head-problem in these experimental days, is its being incumbent upon him + to invent a "new style" worthy of modern civilization in general, and of + England in particular; a style worthy of our engines and telegraphs; as + expansive as steam, and as sparkling as electricity. + </p> + <p> + But, if there are any of my hearers who have been impressed with this + sense of inventive duty, may I ask them first, whether their plan is that + every inventive architect among us shall invent a new style for himself, + and have a county set aside for his conceptions, or a province for his + practice? Or, must every architect invent a little piece of the new style, + and all put it together at last like a dissected map? And if so, when the + new style is invented, what is to be done next? I will grant you this + Eldorado of imagination—but can you have more than one Columbus? Or, + if you sail in company, and divide the prize of your discovery and the + honour thereof, who is to come after you clustered Columbuses? to what + fortunate islands of style are your architectural descendants to sail, + avaricious of new lands? When our desired style is invented, will not the + best we can all do be simply—to build in it?— and cannot you + now do that in styles that are known? Observe, I grant, for the sake of + your argument, what perhaps many of you know that I would not grant + otherwise—that a new style <i>can</i> be invented. I grant you not + only this, but that it shall be wholly different from any that was ever + practised before. We will suppose that capitals are to be at the bottom of + pillars instead of the top; and that buttresses shall be on the tops of + pinnacles instead of at the bottom; that you roof your apertures with + stones which shall neither be arched nor horizontal; and that you compose + your decoration of lines which shall neither be crooked nor straight. The + furnace and the forge shall be at your service: you shall draw out your + plates of glass and beat out your bars of iron till you have encompassed + us all,—if your style is of the practical kind,—with endless + perspective of black skeleton and blinding square,—or if your style + is to be of the ideal kind—you shall wreathe your streets with + ductile leafage, and roof them with variegated crystal—you shall + put, if you will, all London under one blazing dome of many colours that + shall light the clouds round it with its flashing, as far as to the sea. + And still, I ask you, What after this? Do you suppose those imaginations + of yours will ever lie down there asleep beneath the shade of your iron + leafage, or within the coloured light of your enchanted dome? Not so. + Those souls, and fancies, and ambitions of yours, are wholly infinite; + and, whatever may be done by others, you will still want to do something + for yourselves; if you cannot rest content with Palladio, neither will you + with Paxton: all the metal and glass that ever were melted have not so + much weight in them as will clog the wings of one human spirit's + aspiration. + </p> + <p> + If you will think over this quietly by yourselves, and can get the noise + out of your ears of the perpetual, empty, idle, incomparably idiotic talk + about the necessity of some novelty in architecture, you will soon see + that the very essence of a Style, properly so called, is that it should be + practised <i>for ages</i>, and applied to all purposes; and that so long + as any given style is in practice, all that is left for individual + imagination to accomplish must be within the scope of that style, not in + the invention of a new one. If there are any here, therefore, who hope to + obtain celebrity by the invention of some strange way of building which + must convince all Europe into its adoption, to them, for the moment, I + must not be understood to address myself, but only to those who would be + content with that degree of celebrity which an artist may enjoy who works + in the manner of his forefathers;—which the builder of Salisbury + Cathedral might enjoy in England, though he did not invent Gothic; and + which Titian might enjoy at Venice, though he did not invent oil painting. + Addressing myself then to those humbler, but wiser, or rather, only wise + students who are content to avail themselves of some system of building + already understood, let us consider together what room for the exercise of + the imagination may be left to us under such conditions. And, first, I + suppose it will be said, or thought, that the architect's principal field + for exercise of his invention must be in the disposition of lines, + mouldings, and masses, in agreeable proportions. Indeed, if you adopt some + styles of architecture, you cannot exercise invention in any other way. + And I admit that it requires genius and special gift to do this rightly. + Not by rule, nor by study, can the gift of graceful proportionate design + be obtained; only by the intuition of genius can so much as a single tier + of faēade be beautifully arranged; and the man has just cause for pride, + as far as our gifts can ever be a cause for pride, who finds himself able, + in a design of his own, to rival even the simplest arrangement of parts in + one by Sanmicheli, Inigo Jones, or Christopher Wren. + </p> + <p> + Invention, then, and genius being granted, as necessary to accomplish + this, let me ask you, What, after all, with this special gift and genius, + you <i>have</i> accomplished, when you have arranged the lines of a + building beautifully? + </p> + <p> + In the first place you will not, I think, tell me that the beauty there + attained is of a touching or pathetic kind. A well-disposed group of notes + in music will make you sometimes weep and sometimes laugh. You can express + the depth of all affections by those dispositions of sound: you can give + courage to the soldier, language to the lover, consolation to the mourner, + more joy to the joyful, more humility to the devout. Can you do as much by + your group of lines? Do you suppose the front of Whitehall, a singularly + beautiful one ever inspires the two Horse Guards, during the hour they sit + opposite to it, with military ardour? Do you think that the lovers in our + London walk down to the front of Whitehall for consolation when mistresses + are unkind; or that any person wavering in duty, or feeble in faith, was + ever confirmed in purpose or in creed by the pathetic appeal of those + harmonious architraves? You will not say so. Then, if they cannot touch, + or inspire, or comfort any one, can your architectural proportions amuse + any one? Christmas is just over; you have doubtless been at many merry + parties during the period. Can you remember any in which architectural + proportions contributed to the entertainment of the evening? Proportions + of notes in music were, I am sure, essential to your amusement; the + setting of flowers in hair, and of ribands on dresses, were also subjects + of frequent admiration with you, not inessential to your happiness. Among + the juvenile members of your society the proportion of currants in cake, + and of sugar in comfits, became subjects of acute interest; and, when such + proportions were harmonious, motives also of gratitude to cook and to + confectioner. But did you ever see either young or old amused by the + architrave of the door? Or otherwise interested in the proportions of the + room than as they admitted more or fewer friendly faces? Nay, if all the + amusement that there is in the best proportioned architecture of London + could be concentrated into one evening, and you were to issue tickets for + nothing to this great proportional entertainment;—how do you think + it would stand between you and the Drury pantomine? + </p> + <p> + You are, then, remember, granted to be people of genius—great and + admirable; and you devote your lives to your art, but you admit that you + cannot comfort anybody, you cannot encourage anybody, you cannot improve + anybody, and you cannot amuse anybody. I proceed then farther to ask, Can + you inform anybody? Many sciences cannot be considered as highly touching + or emotional; nay, perhaps not specially amusing; scientific men may + sometimes, in these respects, stand on the same ground with you. As far as + we can judge by the results of the late war, science helps our soldiers + about as much as the front of Whitehall; and at the Christmas parties, the + children wanted no geologists to tell them about the behaviour of bears + and dragons in Queen Elizabeth's time. Still, your man of science teaches + you something; he may be dull at a party, or helpless in a battle, he is + not always that; but he can give you, at all events, knowledge of noble + facts, and open to you the secrets of the earth and air. Will your + architectural proportions do as much? Your genius is granted, and your + life is given, and what do you teach us?—Nothing, I believe, from + one end of that life to the other, but that two and two make four, and + that one is to two as three is to six. + </p> + <p> + You cannot, then, it is admitted, comfort any one, serve or amuse any one, + nor teach any one. Finally, I ask, Can you be of <i>Use</i> to any one? + "Yes," you reply; "certainly we are of some use—we architects—in + a climate like this, where it always rains." You are of use certainly; + but, pardon me, only as builders—not as proportionalists. We are not + talking of building as a protection, but only of that special work which + your genius is to do; not of building substantial and comfortable houses + like Mr. Cubitt, but of putting beautiful faēades on them like Inigo + Jones. And, again, I ask—Are you of use to any one? Will your + proportions of the faēade heal the sick, or clothe the naked? Supposing + you devoted your lives to be merchants, you might reflect at the close of + them, how many, fainting for want, you had brought corn to sustain; how + many, infected with disease, you had brought balms to heal; how widely, + among multitudes of far-away nations, you had scattered the first seeds of + national power, and guided the first rays of sacred light. Had you been, + in fine, <i>anything</i> else in the world <i>but</i> architectural + designers, you might have been of some use or good to people. Content to + be petty tradesmen, you would have saved the time of mankind;—rough-handed + daily labourers, you would have added to their stock of food or of + clothing. But, being men of genius, and devoting your lives to the + exquisite exposition of this genius, on what achievements do you think the + memories of your old age are to fasten? Whose gratitude will surround you + with its glow, or on what accomplished good, of that greatest kind for + which men show <i>no</i> gratitude, will your life rest the contentment of + its close? Truly, I fear that the ghosts of proportionate lines will be + thin phantoms at your bedsides—very speechless to you; and that on + all the emanations of your high genius you will look back with less + delight than you might have done on a cup of cold water given to him who + was thirsty, or to a single moment when you had "prevented with your bread + him that fled." + </p> + <p> + Do not answer, nor think to answer, that with your great works and great + payments of workmen in them, you would do this; I know you would, and + will, as Builders; but, I repeat, it is not your <i>building</i> that I am + talking about, but your <i>brains</i>; it is your invention and + imagination of whose profit I am speaking. The good done through the + building, observe, is done by your employers, not by you—you share + in the benefit of it. The good that <i>you</i> personally must do is by + your designing; and I compare you with musicians who do good by their + pathetic composing, not as they do good by employing fiddlers in the + orchestra; for it is the public who in reality do that, not the musicians. + So clearly keeping to this one question, what good we architects are to do + by our genius; and having found that on our proportionate system we can do + no good to others, will you tell me, lastly, what good we can do to <i>ourselves</i>? + </p> + <p> + Observe, nearly every other liberal art or profession has some intense + pleasure connected with it, irrespective of any good to others. As + lawyers, or physicians, or clergymen, you would have the pleasure of + investigation, and of historical reading, as part of your work: as men of + science you would be rejoicing in curiosity perpetually gratified + respecting the laws and facts of nature: as artists you would have delight + in watching the external forms of nature: as day labourers or petty + tradesmen, supposing you to undertake such work with as much intellect as + you are going to devote to your designing, you would find continued + subjects of interest in the manufacture or the agriculture which you + helped to improve; or in the problems of commerce which bore on your + business. But your architectural designing leads you into no pleasant + journeys,—into no seeing of lovely things,—no discerning of + just laws,—no warmths of compassion, no humilities of veneration, no + progressive state of sight or soul. Our conclusion is—must be—that + you will not amuse, nor inform, nor help anybody; you will not amuse, nor + better, nor inform yourselves; you will sink into a state in which you can + neither show, nor feel, nor see, anything, but that one is to two as three + is to six. And in that state what should we call ourselves? Men? I think + not. The right name for us would be—numerators and denominators. + Vulgar Fractions. + </p> + <p> + Shall we, then, abandon this theory of the soul of architecture being in + proportional lines, and look whether we can find anything better to exert + our fancies upon? + </p> + <p> + May we not, to begin with, accept this great principle—that, as our + bodies, to be in health, must be <i>generally</i> exercised, so our minds, + to be in health, must be <i>generally</i> cultivated? You would not call a + man healthy who had strong arms but was paralytic in his feet; nor one who + could walk well, but had no use of his hands; nor one who could see well, + if he could not hear. You would not voluntarily reduce your bodies to any + such partially developed state. Much more, then, you would not, if you + could help it, reduce your minds to it. Now, your minds are endowed with a + vast number of gifts of totally different uses—limbs of mind as it + were, which, if you don't exercise, you cripple. One is curiosity; that is + a gift, a capacity of pleasure in knowing; which if you destroy, you make + yourselves cold and dull. Another is sympathy; the power of sharing in the + feelings of living creatures, which if you destroy, you make yourselves + hard and cruel. Another of your limbs of mind is admiration; the power of + enjoying beauty or ingenuity, which, if you destroy, you make yourselves + base and irreverent. Another is wit; or the power of playing with the + lights on the many sides of truth; which if you destroy, you make + yourselves gloomy, and less useful and cheering to others than you might + be. So that in choosing your way of work it should be your aim, as far as + possible, to bring out all these faculties, as far as they exist in you; + not one merely, nor another, but all of them. And the way to bring them + out, is simply to concern yourselves attentively with the subjects of each + faculty. To cultivate sympathy you must be among living creatures, and + thinking about them; and to cultivate admiration, you must be among + beautiful things and looking at them. + </p> + <p> + All this sounds much like truism, at least I hope it does, for then you + will surely not refuse to act upon it; and to consider farther, how, as + architects, you are to keep yourselves in contemplation of living + creatures and lovely things. + </p> + <p> + You all probably know the beautiful photographs which have been published + within the last year or two of the porches of the Cathedral of Amiens. I + hold one of these up to you, (merely that you may know what I am talking + about, as of course you cannot see the detail at this distance, but you + will recognise the subject.) Have you ever considered how much sympathy, + and how much humour, are developed in filling this single doorway [Note: + The tympanum of the south transcept door; it is to be found generally + among all collections of architectural photographs] with these sculptures + of the history of St. Honoré (and, by the way, considering how often we + English are now driving up and down the Rue St. Honoré, we may as well + know as much of the saint as the old architect cared to tell us). You know + in all legends of saints who ever were bishops, the first thing you are + told of them is that they didn't want to be bishops. So here is St. + Honoré, who doesn't want to be a bishop, sitting sulkily in the corner; he + hugs his book with both hands, and won't get up to take his crosier; and + here are all the city aldermen of Amiens come to <i>poke</i> him up; and + all the monks in the town in a great puzzle what they shall do for a + bishop if St. Honoré won't be; and here's one of the monks in the opposite + corner who is quite cool about it, and thinks they'll get on well enough + without St Honoré,—you see that in his face perfectly. At last St. + Honoré consents to be bishop, and here he sits in a throne, and has his + book now grandly on his desk instead of his knees, and he directs one of + his village curates how to find relics in a wood; here is the wood, and + here is the village curate, and here are the tombs, with the bones of St. + Victorien and Gentien in them. + </p> + <p> + After this, St. Honoré performs grand mass, and the miracle occurs of the + appearance of a hand blessing the wafer, which occurrence afterwards was + painted for the arms of the abbey. Then St. Honoré dies; and here is his + tomb with his statue on the top; and miracles are being performed at it—a + deaf man having his ear touched, and a blind man groping his way up to the + tomb with his dog. Then here is a great procession in honour of the relics + of St. Honoré; and under his coffin are some cripples being healed; and + the coffin itself is put above the bar which separates the cross from the + lower subjects, because the tradition is that the figure on the crucifix + of the Church of St. Firmin bowed its head in token of acceptance, as the + relics of St. Honoré passed beneath. + </p> + <p> + Now just consider the amount of sympathy with human nature, and observance + of it, shown in this one bas-relief; the sympathy with disputing monks, + with puzzled aldermen, with melancholy recluse, with triumphant prelate, + with palsy-stricken poverty, with ecclesiastical magnificence, or + miracle-working faith. Consider how much intellect was needed in the + architect, and how much observance of nature before he could give the + expression to these various figures—cast these multitudinous + draperies—design these rich and quaint fragments of tombs and altars—weave + with perfect animation the entangled branches of the forest. + </p> + <p> + But you will answer me, all this is not architecture at all—it is + sculpture. Will you then tell me precisely where the separation exists + between one and the other? We will begin at the very beginning. I will + show you a piece of what you will certainly admit to be a piece of pure + architecture; [Note: See Appendix III., "Classical Architecture."] it is + drawn on the back of another photograph, another of these marvellous + tympana from Notre Dame, which you call, I suppose, impure. Well, look on + this picture, and on this. Don't laugh; you must not laugh, that's very + improper of you, this is classical architecture. I have taken it out of + the essay on that subject in the "Encyclopędia Britannica." + </p> + <p> + Yet I suppose none of you would think yourselves particularly ingenious + architects if you had designed nothing more than this; nay, I will even + let you improve it into any grand proportion you choose, and add to it as + many windows as you choose; the only thing I insist upon in our specimen + of pure architecture is, that there shall be no mouldings nor ornaments + upon it. And I suspect you don't quite like your architecture so "pure" as + this. We want a few mouldings, you will say—just a few. Those who + want mouldings, hold up their hands. We are unanimous, I think. Will, you, + then, design the profiles of these mouldings yourselves, or will you copy + them? If you wish to copy them, and to copy them always, of course I leave + you at once to your authorities, and your imaginations to their repose. + But if you wish to design them yourselves, how do you do it? You draw the + profile according to your taste, and you order your mason to cut it. Now, + will you tell me the logical difference between drawing the profile of a + moulding and giving <i>that</i> to be cut, and drawing the folds of the + drapery of a statue and giving <i>those</i> to be cut. The last is much + more difficult to do than the first; but degrees of difficulty constitute + no specific difference, and you will not accept it, surely, as a + definition of the difference between architecture and sculpture, that + "architecture is doing anything that is easy, and sculpture anything that + is difficult." + </p> + <p> + It is true, also, that the carved moulding represents nothing, and the + carved drapery represents something; but you will not, I should think, + accept, as an explanation of the difference between architecture and + sculpture, this any more than the other, that "sculpture is art which has + meaning, and architecture art which has none." + </p> + <p> + Where, then, is your difference? In this, perhaps, you will say; that + whatever ornaments we can direct ourselves, and get accurately cut to + order, we consider architectural. The ornaments that we are obliged to + leave to the pleasure of the workman, or the superintendence of some other + designer, we consider sculptural, especially if they are more or less + extraneous and incrusted—not an essential part of the building. + </p> + <p> + Accepting this definition, I am compelled to reply, that it is in effect + nothing more than an amplification of my first one—that whatever is + easy you call architecture, whatever is difficult you call sculpture. For + you cannot suppose the arrangement of the place in which the sculpture is + to be put is so difficult or so great a part of the design as the + sculpture itself. For instance: you all know the pulpit of Niccolo Pisano, + in the baptistry at Pisa. It is composed of seven rich <i>relievi</i>, + surrounded by panel mouldings, and sustained on marble shafts. Do you + suppose Niccolo Pisano's reputation—such part of it at least as + rests on this pulpit (and much does)—depends on the panel mouldings, + or on the relievi? The panel mouldings are by his hand; he would have + disdained to leave even them to a common workman; but do you think he + found any difficulty in them, or thought there was any credit in them? + Having once done the sculpture, those enclosing lines were mere child's + play to him; the determination of the diameter of shafts and height of + capitals was an affair of minutes; his <i>work</i> was in carving the + Crucifixion and the Baptism. + </p> + <p> + Or, again, do you recollect Orcagna's tabernacle in the church of San + Michele, at Florence? That, also, consists of rich and multitudinous + bas-reliefs, enclosed in panel mouldings, with shafts of mosaic, and + foliated arches sustaining the canopy. Do you think Orcagna, any more than + Pisano, if his spirit could rise in the midst of us at this moment, would + tell us that he had trusted his fame to the foliation, or had put his + soul's pride into the panelling? Not so; he would tell you that his spirit + was in the stooping figures that stand round the couch of the dying + Virgin. + </p> + <p> + Or, lastly, do you think the man who designed the procession on the portal + of Amiens was the subordinate workman? that there was an architect over <i>him</i>, + restraining him within certain limits, and ordering of him his bishops at + so much a mitre, and his cripples at so much a crutch? Not so. <i>Here</i>, + on this sculptured shield, rests the Master's hand; <i>this</i> is the + centre of the Master's thought; from this, and in subordination to this, + waved the arch and sprang the pinnacle. Having done this, and being able + to give human expression and action to the stone, all the rest—the + rib, the niche, the foil, the shaft—were mere toys to his hand and + accessories to his conception: and if once you also gain the gift of doing + this, if once you can carve one fronton such as you have here, I tell you, + you would be able—so far as it depended on your invention—to + scatter cathedrals over England as fast as clouds rise from its streams + after summer rain. + </p> + <p> + Nay, but perhaps you answer again, our sculptors at present do not design + cathedrals, and could not. No, they could not; but that is merely because + we have made architecture so dull that they cannot take any interest in + it, and, therefore, do not care to add to their higher knowledge the poor + and common knowledge of principles of building. You have thus separated + building from sculpture, and you have taken away the power of both; for + the sculptor loses nearly as much by never having room for the development + of a continuous work, as you do from having reduced your work to a + continuity of mechanism. You are essentially, and should always be, the + same body of men, admitting only such difference in operation as there is + between the work of a painter at different times, who sometimes labours on + a small picture, and sometimes on the frescoes of a palace gallery. + </p> + <p> + This conclusion, then, we arrive at, <i>must</i> arrive at; the fact being + irrevocably so:—that in order to give your imagination and the other + powers of your souls full play, you must do as all the great architects of + old time did—you must yourselves be your sculptors. Phidias, Michael + Angelo, Orcagna, Pisano, Giotto,—which of these men, do you think, + could not use his chisel? You say, "It is difficult; quite out of your + way." I know it is; nothing that is great is easy; and nothing that is + great, so long as you study building without sculpture, can be <i>in</i> + your way. I want to put it in your way, and you to find your way to it. + But, on the other hand, do not shrink from the task as if the refined art + of perfect sculpture were always required from you. For, though + architecture and sculpture are not separate arts, there is an + architectural <i>manner</i> of sculpture; and it is, in the majority of + its applications, a comparatively easy one. Our great mistake at present, + in dealing with stone at all, is requiring to have all our work too + refined; it is just the same mistake as if we were to require all our book + illustrations to be as fine work as Raphael's. John Leech does not sketch + so well as Leonardo da Vinci; but do you think that the public could + easily spare him; or that he is wrong in bringing out his talent in the + way in which it is most effective? Would you advise him, if he asked your + advice, to give up his wood-blocks and take to canvas? I know you would + not; neither would you tell him, I believe, on the other hand, that + because he could not draw as well as Leonardo, therefore he ought to draw + nothing but straight lines with a ruler, and circles with compasses, and + no figure- subjects at all. That would be some loss to you; would it not? + You would all be vexed if next week's <i>Punch</i> had nothing in it but + proportionate lines. And yet, do not you see that you are doing precisely + the same thing with <i>your</i> powers of sculptural design that he would + be doing with his powers of pictorial design, if he gave you nothing but + such lines. You feel that you cannot carve like Phidias; therefore you + will not carve at all, but only draw mouldings; and thus all that + intermediate power which is of especial value in modern days,—that + popular power of expression which is within the attainment of thousands,—and + would address itself to tens of thousands,—is utterly lost to us in + stone, though in ink and paper it has become one of the most desired + luxuries of modern civilization. + </p> + <p> + Here, then, is one part of the subject to which I would especially invite + your attention, namely, the distinctive character which may be wisely + permitted to belong to architectural sculpture, as distinguished from + perfect sculpture on one side, and from mere geometrical decoration on the + other. + </p> + <p> + And first, observe what an indulgence we have in the distance at which + most work is to be seen. Supposing we were able to carve eyes and lips + with the most exquisite precision, it would all be of no use as soon as + the work was put far above the eye; but, on the other hand, as beauties + disappear by being far withdrawn, so will faults; and the mystery and + confusion which are the natural consequence of distance, while they would + often render your best skill but vain, will as often render your worst + errors of little consequence; nay, more than this, often a deep cut, or a + rude angle, will produce in certain positions an effect of expression both + startling and true, which you never hoped for. Not that mere distance will + give animation to the work, if it has none in itself; but if it has life + at all, the distance will make that life more perceptible and powerful by + softening the defects of execution. So that you are placed, as workmen, in + this position of singular advantage, that you may give your fancies free + play, and strike hard for the expression that you want, knowing that, if + you miss it, no one will detect you; if you at all touch it, nature + herself will help you, and with every changing shadow and basking sunbeam + bring forth new phases of your fancy. + </p> + <p> + But it is not merely this privilege of being imperfect which belongs to + architectural sculpture. It has a true privilege of imagination, far + excelling all that can be granted to the more finished work, which, for + the sake of distinction, I will call,—and I don't think we can have + a much better term—"furniture sculpture;" sculpture, that is, which + can be moved from place to furnish rooms. + </p> + <p> + For observe, to that sculpture the spectator is usually brought in a + tranquil or prosaic state of mind; he sees it associated rather with what + is sumptuous than sublime, and under circumstances which address + themselves more to his comfort than his curiosity. The statue which is to + be pathetic, seen between the flashes of footmen's livery round the + dining-table, must have strong elements of pathos in itself; and the + statue which is to be awful, in the midst of the gossip of the drawing- + room, must have the elements of awe wholly in itself. But the spectator is + brought to <i>your</i> work already in an excited and imaginative mood. He + has been impressed by the cathedral wall as it loomed over the low + streets, before he looks up to the carving of its porch—and his love + of mystery has been touched by the silence and the shadows of the + cloister, before he can set himself to decipher the bosses on its + vaulting. So that when once he begins to observe your doings, he will ask + nothing better from you, nothing kinder from you, than that you would meet + this imaginative temper of his half way;—that you would farther + touch the sense of terror, or satisfy the expectation of things strange, + which have been prompted by the mystery or the majesty of the surrounding + scene. And thus, your leaving forms more or less undefined, or carrying + out your fancies, however extravagant, in grotesqueness of shadow or + shape, will be for the most part in accordance with the temper of the + observer; and he is likely, therefore, much more willingly to use his + fancy to help your meanings, than his judgment to detect your faults. + </p> + <p> + Again. Remember that when the imagination and feelings are strongly + excited, they will not only bear with strange things, but they will <i>look</i> + into <i>minute</i> things with a delight quite unknown in hours of + tranquillity. You surely must remember moments of your lives in which, + under some strong excitement of feeling, all the details of visible + objects presented themselves with a strange intensity and insistance, + whether you would or no; urging themselves upon the mind, and thrust upon + the eye, with a force of fascination which you could not refuse. Now, to a + certain extent, the senses get into this state whenever the imagination is + strongly excited. Things trivial at other times assume a dignity or + significance which we cannot explain; but which is only the more + attractive because inexplicable: and the powers of attention, quickened by + the feverish excitement, fasten and feed upon the minutest circumstances + of detail, and remotest traces of intention. So that what would at other + times be felt as more or less mean or extraneous in a work of sculpture, + and which would assuredly be offensive to the perfect taste in its moments + of languor, or of critical judgment, will be grateful, and even sublime, + when it meets this frightened inquisitiveness, this fascinated + watchfulness, of the roused imagination. And this is all for your + advantage; for, in the beginnings of your sculpture, you will assuredly + find it easier to imitate minute circumstances of costume or character, + than to perfect the anatomy of simple forms or the flow of noble masses; + and it will be encouraging to remember that the grace you cannot perfect, + and the simplicity you cannot achieve, would be in great part vain, even + if you could achieve them, in their appeal to the hasty curiosity of + passionate fancy; but that the sympathy which would be refused to your + science will be granted to your innocence: and that the mind of the + general observer, though wholly unaffected by the correctness of anatomy + or propriety of gesture, will follow you with fond and pleased + concurrence, as you carve the knots of the hair, and the patterns of the + vesture. + </p> + <p> + Farther yet. We are to remember that not only do the associated features + of the larger architecture tend to excite the strength of fancy, but the + architectural laws to which you are obliged to submit your decoration + stimulate its <i>ingenuity</i>. Every crocket which you are to crest with + sculpture,—every foliation which you have to fill, presents itself + to the spectator's fancy, not only as a pretty thing, but as a <i>problematic</i> + thing. It contained, he perceives immediately, not only a beauty which you + wished to display, but a necessity which you were forced to meet; and the + problem, how to occupy such and such a space with organic form in any + probable way, or how to turn such a boss or ridge into a conceivable image + of life, becomes at once, to him as to you, a matter of amusement as much + as of admiration. The ordinary conditions of perfection in form, gesture, + or feature, are willingly dispensed with, when the ugly dwarf and ungainly + goblin have only to gather themselves into angles, or crouch to carry + corbels; and the want of skill which, in other kinds of work would have + been required for the finishing of the parts, will at once be forgiven + here, if you have only disposed ingeniously what you have executed + roughly, and atoned for the rudeness of your hands by the quickness of + your wits. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto, however, we have been considering only the circumstances in + architecture favourable to the development of the <i>powers</i> of + imagination. A yet more important point for us seems, to me, the place + which it gives to all the <i>objects</i> of imagination. + </p> + <p> + For, I suppose, you will not wish me to spend any time in proving, that + imagination must be vigorous in proportion to the quantity of material + which it has to handle; and that, just as we increase the range of what we + see, we increase the richness of what we can imagine. Granting this, + consider what a field is opened to your fancy merely in the subject matter + which architecture admits. Nearly every other art is severely limited in + its subjects—the landscape painter, for instance, gets little help + from the aspects of beautiful humanity; the historical painter, less, + perhaps, than he ought, from the accidents of wild nature; and the pure + sculptor, still less, from the minor details of common life. But is there + anything within range of sight, or conception, which may not be of use to + <i>you</i>, or in which your interest may not be excited with advantage to + your art? From visions of angels, down to the least important gesture of a + child at play, whatever may be conceived of Divine, or beheld of Human, + may be dared or adopted by you: throughout the kingdom of animal life, no + creature is so vast, or so minute, that you cannot deal with it, or bring + it into service; the lion and the crocodile will couch about your shafts; + the moth and the bee will sun themselves upon your flowers; for you, the + fawn will leap; for you, the snail be slow; for you, the dove smooth her + bosom; and the hawk spread her wings toward the south. All the wide world + of vegetation blooms and bends for you; the leaves tremble that you may + bid them be still under the marble snow; the thorn and the thistle, which + the earth casts forth as evil, are to you the kindliest servants; no dying + petal, nor drooping tendril, is so feeble as to have no more help for you; + no robed pride of blossom so kingly, but it will lay aside its purple to + receive at your hands the pale immortality. Is there anything in common + life too mean,—in common too trivial,—to be ennobled by your + touch? As there is nothing in life, so there is nothing in lifelessness + which has not its lesson for you, or its gift; and when you are tired of + watching the strength of the plume, and the tenderness of the leaf, you + may walk down to your rough river shore, or into the thickest markets of + your thoroughfares, and there is not a piece of torn cable that will not + twine into a perfect moulding; there is not a fragment of cast-away + matting, or shattered basket-work, that will not work into a chequer or + capital. Yes: and if you gather up the very sand, and break the stone on + which you tread, among its fragments of all but invisible shells you will + find forms that will take their place, and that proudly, among the starred + traceries of your vaulting; and you, who can crown the mountain with its + fortress, and the city with its towers, are thus able also to give beauty + to ashes, and worthiness to dust. + </p> + <p> + Now, in that your art presents all this material to you, you have already + much to rejoice in. But you have more to rejoice in, because all this is + submitted to you, not to be dissected or analyzed, but to be sympathized + with, and to bring out, therefore, what may be accurately called the moral + part of imagination. We saw that, if we kept ourselves among lines only, + we should have cause to envy the naturalist, because he was conversant + with facts; but you will have little to envy now, if you make yourselves + conversant with the feelings that arise out of his facts. For instance, + the naturalist coming upon a block of marble, has to begin considering + immediately how far its purple is owing to iron, or its whiteness to + magnesia; he breaks his piece of marble, and at the close of his day, has + nothing but a little sand in his crucible and some data added to the + theory of the elements. But <i>you</i> approach your marble to sympathize + with it, and rejoice over its beauty. You cut it a little indeed; but only + to bring out its veins more perfectly; and at the end of your day's work + you leave your marble shaft with joy and complacency in its perfectness, + as marble. When you have to watch an animal instead of a stone, you differ + from the naturalist in the same way. He may, perhaps, if he be an amiable + naturalist, take delight in having living creatures round him;—still, + the major part of his work is, or has been, in counting feathers, + separating fibres, and analyzing structures. But <i>your</i> work is + always with the living creature; the thing you have to get at in him is + his life, and ways of going about things. It does not matter to you how + many cells there are in his bones, or how many filaments in his feathers; + what you want is his moral character and way of behaving himself; it is + just that which your imagination, if healthy, will first seize—just + that which your chisel, if vigorous, will first cut. You must get the + storm spirit into your eagles, and the lordliness into your lions, and the + tripping fear into your fawns; and in order to do this, you must be in + continual sympathy with every fawn of them; and be hand-in-glove with all + the lions, and hand-in-claw with all the hawks. And don't fancy that you + will lower yourselves by sympathy with the lower creatures; you cannot + sympathize rightly with the higher, unless you do with those: but you have + to sympathize with the higher, too— with queens, and kings, and + martyrs, and angels. Yes, and above all, and more than all, with simple + humanity in all its needs and ways, for there is not one hurried face that + passes you in the street that will not be impressive, if you can only + fathom it. All history is open to you, all high thoughts and dreams that + the past fortunes of men can suggest, all fairy land is open to you—no + vision that ever haunted forest, or gleamed over hill-side, but calls you + to understand how it came into men's hearts, and may still touch them; and + all Paradise is open to you—yes, and the work of Paradise; for in + bringing all this, in perpetual and attractive truth, before the eyes of + your fellow-men, you have to join in the employment of the angels, as well + as to imagine their companies. + </p> + <p> + And observe, in this last respect, what a peculiar importance, and + responsibility, are attached to your work, when you consider its + permanence, and the multitudes to whom it is addressed. We frequently are + led, by wise people, to consider what responsibility may sometimes attach + to words, which yet, the chance is, will be heard by few, and forgotten as + soon as heard. But none of <i>your</i> words will be heard by few, and + none will be forgotten, for five or six hundred years, if you build well. + You will talk to all who pass by; and all those little sympathies, those + freaks of fancy, those jests in stone, those workings-out of problems in + caprice, will occupy mind after mind of utterly countless multitudes, long + after you are gone. You have not, like authors, to plead for a hearing, or + to fear oblivion. Do but build large enough, and carve boldly enough, and + all the world will hear you; they cannot choose but look. + </p> + <p> + I do not mean to awe you by this thought; I do not mean that because you + will have so many witnesses and watchers, you are never to jest, or do + anything gaily or lightly; on the contrary, I have pleaded, from the + beginning, for this art of yours, especially because it has room for the + whole of your character—if jest is in you, let the jest be jested; + if mathematical ingenuity is yours, let your problem be put, and your + solution worked out, as quaintly as you choose; above all, see that your + work is easily and happily done, else it will never make anybody else + happy; but while you thus give the rein to all your impulses, see that + those impulses be headed and centred by one noble impulse; and let that be + Love—triple love—for the art which you practise, the creation + in which you move, and the creatures to whom you minister. + </p> + <p> + I. I say, first, Love for the art which you practise. Be assured that if + ever any other motive becomes a leading one in your mind, as the principal + one for exertion, except your love of art, that moment it is all over with + your art. I do not say you are to desire money, nor to desire fame, nor to + desire position; you cannot but desire all three; nay, you may—if + you are willing that I should use the word Love in a desecrated sense—love + all three; that is, passionately covet them, yet you must not covet or + love them in the first place. Men of strong passions and imaginations must + always care a great deal for anything they care for at all; but the whole + question is one of first or second. Does your art lead you, or your gain + lead you? You may like making money exceedingly; but if it come to a fair + question, whether you are to make five hundred pounds less by this + business, or to spoil your building, and you choose to spoil your + building, there's an end of you. So you may be as thirsty for fame as a + cricket is for cream; but, if it come to a fair question, whether you are + to please the mob, or do the thing as you know it ought to be done; and + you can't do both, and choose to please the mob, it's all over with you—there's + no hope for you; nothing that you can do will ever be worth a man's glance + as he passes by. The test is absolute, inevitable—Is your art first + with you? Then you are artists; you may be, after you have made your + money, misers and usurers; you may be, after you have got your fame, + jealous, and proud, and wretched, and base: but yet, <i>as long as you + won't spoil your work</i>, you are artists. On the other hand—Is + your money first with you, and your fame first with you? Then, you may be + very charitable with your money, and very magnificent with your money, and + very graceful in the way you wear your reputation, and very courteous to + those beneath you, and very acceptable to those above you; but you are <i>not + artists</i>. You are mechanics, and drudges. + </p> + <p> + II. You must love the creation you work in the midst of. For, wholly in + proportion to the intensity of feeling which you bring to the subject you + have chosen, will be the depth and justice of our perception of its + character. And this depth of feeling is not to be gained on the instant, + when you want to bring it to bear on this or that. It is the result of the + general habit of striving to feel rightly; and, among thousands of various + means of doing this, perhaps the one I ought specially to name to you, is + the keeping yourselves clear of petty and mean cares. Whatever you do, + don't be anxious, nor fill your heads with little chagrins and little + desires. I have just said, that you may be great artists, and yet be + miserly and jealous, and troubled about many things. So you may be; but I + said also that the miserliness or trouble must not be in your hearts all + day. It is possible that you may get a habit of saving money; or it is + possible, at a time of great trial, you may yield to the temptation of + speaking unjustly of a rival,—and you will shorten your powers arid + dim your sight even by this;—but the thing that you have to dread + far more than any such unconscious habit, or—any such momentary fall—is + the <i>constancy of small emotions</i>;—the anxiety whether Mr. + So-and-so will like your work; whether such and such a workman will do all + that you want of him, and so on;—not wrong feelings or anxieties in + themselves, but impertinent, and wholly incompatible with the full + exercise of your imagination. + </p> + <p> + Keep yourselves, therefore, quiet, peaceful, with your eyes open. It + doesn't matter at all what Mr. So-and-so thinks of your work; but it + matters a great deal what that bird is doing up there in its nest, or how + that vagabond child at the street corner is managing his game of + knuckle-down. And remember, you cannot turn aside from your own interests, + to the birds' and the children's interests, unless you have long before + got into the habit of loving and watching birds and children; so that it + all comes at last to the forgetting yourselves, and the living out of + yourselves, in the calm of the great world, or if you will, in its + agitation; but always in a calm of your own bringing. Do not think it + wasted time to submit yourselves to any influence which may bring upon you + any noble feeling. Rise early, always watch the sunrise, and the way the + clouds break from the dawn; you will cast your statue-draperies in quite + another than your common way, when the remembrance of that cloud motion is + with you, and of the scarlet vesture of the morning. Live always in the + springtime in the country; you do not know what leaf-form means, unless + you have seen the buds burst, and the young leaves breathing low in the + sunshine, and wondering at the first shower of rain. But above all, + accustom yourselves to look for, and to love, all nobleness of gesture and + feature in the human form; and remember that the highest nobleness is + usually among the aged, the poor, and the infirm; you will find, in the + end, that it is not the strong arm of the soldier, nor the laugh of the + young beauty, that are the best studies for you. Look at them, and look at + them reverently; but be assured that endurance is nobler than strength, + and patience than beauty; and that it is not in the high church pews, + where the gay dresses are, but in the church free seats, where the widows' + weeds are, that you may see the faces that will fit best between the + angels' wings, in the church porch. + </p> + <p> + III. And therefore, lastly, and chiefly, you must love the creatures to + whom you minister, your fellow-men; for, if you do not love them, not only + will you be little interested in the passing events of life, but in all + your gazing at humanity, you will be apt to be struck only by outside + form, and not by expression. It is only kindness and tenderness which will + ever enable you to see what beauty there is in the dark eyes that are sunk + with weeping, and in the paleness of those fixed faces which the earth's + adversity has compassed about, till they shine in their patience like + dying watchfires through twilight. But it is not this only which makes it + needful for you, if you would be great, to be also kind; there is a most + important and all-essential reason in the very nature of your own art. So + soon as you desire to build largely, and with addition of noble sculpture, + you will find that your work must be associative. You cannot carve a whole + cathedral yourself—you can carve but few and simple parts of it. + Either your own work must be disgraced in the mass of the collateral + inferiority, or you must raise your fellow-designers to correspondence of + power. If you have genius, you will yourselves take the lead in the + building you design; you will carve its porch and direct its disposition. + But for all subsequent advancement of its detail, you must trust to the + agency and the invention of others; and it rests with you either to + repress what faculties your workmen have, into cunning subordination to + your own; or to rejoice in discovering even the powers that may rival you, + and leading forth mind after mind into fellowship with your fancy, and + association with your fame. + </p> + <p> + I need not tell you that if you do the first—if you endeavour to + depress or disguise the talents of your subordinates—you are lost; + for nothing could imply more darkly and decisively than this, that your + art and your work were not beloved by you; that it was your own prosperity + that you were seeking, and your own skill only that you cared to + contemplate. I do not say that you must not be jealous at all; it is + rarely in human nature to be wholly without jealousy; and you may be + forgiven for going some day sadly home, when you find some youth, + unpractised and unapproved, giving the life-stroke to his work which you, + after years of training, perhaps, cannot reach; but your jealousy must not + conquer—your love of your building must conquer, helped by your + kindness of heart. See—I set no high or difficult standard before + you. I do not say that you are to surrender your pre-eminence in <i>mere</i> + unselfish generosity. But I do say that you must surrender your + pre-eminence in your love of your building helped by your kindness; and + that whomsoever you find better able to do what will adorn it than you,—that + person you are to give place to; and to console yourselves for the + humiliation, first, by your joy in seeing the edifice grow more beautiful + under his chisel, and secondly, by your sense of having done kindly and + justly. But if you are morally strong enough to make the kindness and + justice the first motive, it will be better;—best of all, if you do + not consider it as kindness at all, but bare and stern justice; for, + truly, such help as we can give each other in this world is a <i>debt</i> + to each other; and the man who perceives a superiority or a capacity in a + subordinate, and neither confesses, nor assists it, is not merely the + withholder of kindness, but the committer of injury. But be the motive + what you will, only see that you do the thing; and take the joy of the + consciousness that, as your art embraces a wider field than all others—and + addresses a vaster multitude than all others—and is surer of + audience than all others—so it is profounder and holier in + Fellowship than all others. The artist, when his pupil is perfect, must + see him leave his side that he may declare his distinct, perhaps opponent, + skill. Man of science wrestles with man of science for priority of + discovery, and pursues in pangs of jealous haste his solitary inquiry. You + alone are called by kindness,— by necessity,—by equity, to + fraternity of toil; and thus, in those misty and massive piles which rise + above the domestic roofs of our ancient cities, there was—there may + be again—a meaning more profound and true than any that fancy so + commonly has attached to them. Men say their pinnacles point to heaven. + Why, so does every tree that buds, and every bird that rises as it sings. + Men say their aisles are good for worship. Why, so is every mountain glen, + and rough sea-shore. But this they have of distinct and indisputable + glory,—that their mighty walls were never raised, and never shall + be, but by men who love and aid each other in their weakness;—that + all their interlacing strength of vaulted stone has its foundation upon + the stronger arches of manly fellowship, and all their changing grace of + depressed or lifted pinnacle owes its cadence and completeness to sweeter + symmetries of human soul. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0008" id="link2H_4_0008"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + LECTURE V. — THE WORK OF IRON, IN NATURE, ART, AND POLICY. + </h2> + <h3> + <i>A Lecture Delivered at Tunbridge Wells, February, 1858.</i> + </h3> + <p> + When first I heard that you wished me to address you this evening, it was + a matter of some doubt with me whether I could find any subject that would + possess any sufficient interest for you to justify my bringing you out of + your comfortable houses on a winter's night. When I venture to speak about + my own special business of art, it is almost always before students of + art, among whom I may sometimes permit myself to be dull, if I can feel + that I am useful: but a mere talk about art, especially without examples + to refer to (and I have been unable to prepare any careful illustrations + for this lecture), is seldom of much interest to a general audience. As I + was considering what you might best bear with me in speaking about, there + came naturally into my mind a subject connected with the origin and + present prosperity of the town you live in; and, it seemed to me, in the + out-branchings of it, capable of a very general interest. When, long ago + (I am afraid to think how long), Tunbridge Wells was my Switzerland, and I + used to be brought down here in the summer, a sufficiently active child, + rejoicing in the hope of clambering sandstone cliffs of stupendous height + above the common, there used sometimes, as, I suppose, there are in the + lives of all children at the Wells, to be dark days in my life—days + of condemnation to the pantiles and band—under which calamities my + only consolation used to be in watching, at every turn in my walk, the + welling forth of the spring over the orange rim of its marble basin. The + memory of the clear water, sparkling over its saffron stain, came back to + me as the strongest image connected with the place; and it struck me that + you might not be unwilling, to-night, to think a little over the full + significance of that saffron stain, and of the power, in other ways and + other functions, of the steelly element to which so many here owe + returning strength and life;—chief as it has been always, and is yet + more and more markedly so day by day, among the precious gifts of the + earth. + </p> + <p> + The subject is, of course, too wide to be more than suggestively treated; + and even my suggestions must be few, and drawn chiefly from my own fields + of work; nevertheless, I think I shall have time to indicate some courses + of thought which you may afterwards follow out for yourselves if they + interest you; and so I will not shrink from the full scope of the subject + which I have announced to you—the functions of Iron, in Nature, Art, + and Policy. + </p> + <p> + Without more preface, I will take up the first head. + </p> + <p> + I. IRON IN NATURE.—You all probably know that the ochreous stain, + which, perhaps, is often thought to spoil the basin of your spring, is + iron in a state of rust: and when you see rusty iron in other places you + generally think, not only that it spoils the places it stains, but that it + is spoiled itself—that rusty iron is spoiled iron. + </p> + <p> + For most of our uses it generally is so; and because we cannot use a rusty + knife or razor so well as a polished one, we suppose it to be a great + defect in iron that it is subject to rust. But not at all. On the + contrary, the most perfect and useful state of it is that ochreous stain; + and therefore it is endowed with so ready a disposition to get itself into + that state. It is not a fault in the iron, but a virtue, to be so fond of + getting rusted, for in that condition it fulfils its most important + functions in the universe, and most kindly duties to mankind. Nay, in a + certain sense, and almost a literal one, we may say that iron rusted is + Living; but when pure or polished, Dead. You all probably know that in the + mixed air we breathe, the part of it essentially needful to us is called + oxygen; and that this substance is to all animals, in the most accurate + sense of the word, "breath of life." The nervous power of life is a + different thing; but the supporting element of the breath, without which + the blood, and therefore the life, cannot be nourished, is this oxygen. + Now it is this very same air which the iron breathes when it gets rusty. + It takes the oxygen from the atmosphere as eagerly as we do, though it + uses it differently. The iron keeps all that it gets; we, and other + animals, part with it again; but the metal absolutely keeps what it has + once received of this aerial gift; and the ochreous dust which we so much + despise is, in fact, just so much nobler than pure iron, in so far as it + is <i>iron and the air.</i> Nobler, and more useful—for, indeed, as + I shall be able to show you presently—the main service of this + metal, and of all other metals, to us, is not in making knives, and + scissors, and pokers, and pans, but in making the ground we feed from, and + nearly all the substances first needful to our existence. For these are + all nothing but metals and oxygen—metals with breath put into them. + Sand, lime, clay, and the rest of the earths—potash and soda, and + the rest of the alkalies—are all of them metals which have undergone + this, so to speak, vital change, and have been rendered fit for the + service of man by permanent unity with the purest air which he himself + breathes. There is only one metal which does not rust readily; and that, + in its influence on Man hitherto, has caused Death rather than Life; it + will not be put to its right use till it is made a pavement of, and so + trodden under foot. + </p> + <p> + Is there not something striking in this fact, considered largely as one of + the types, or lessons, furnished by the inanimate creation? Here you have + your hard, bright, cold, lifeless metal—good enough for swords and + scissors—but not for food. You think, perhaps, that your iron is + wonderfully useful in a pure form, but how would you like the world, if + all your meadows, instead of grass, grew nothing but iron wire—if + all your arable ground, instead of being made of sand and clay, were + suddenly turned into flat surfaces of steel—if the whole earth, + instead of its green and glowing sphere, rich with forest and flower, + showed nothing but the image of the vast furnace of a ghastly engine—a + globe of black, lifeless, excoriated metal? It would be that,—probably + it was once that; but assuredly it would be, were it not that all the + substance of which it is made sucks and breathes the brilliancy of the + atmosphere; and as it breathes, softening from its merciless hardness, it + falls into fruitful and beneficent dust; gathering itself again into the + earths from which we feed, and the stones with which we build;— into + the rocks that frame the mountains, and the sands that bind the sea. + </p> + <p> + Hence, it is impossible for you to take up the most insignificant pebble + at your feet, without being able to read, if you like, this curious lesson + in it. You look upon it at first as if it were earth only. Nay, it + answers, "I am not earth—I am earth and air in one; part of that + blue heaven which you love, and long for, is already in me; it is all my + life—without it I should be nothing, and able for nothing; I could + not minister to you, nor nourish you—I should be a cruel and + helpless thing; but, because there is, according to my need and place in + creation, a kind of soul in me, I have become capable of good, and helpful + in the circles of vitality." + </p> + <p> + Thus far the same interest attaches to all the earths, and all the metals + of which they are made; but a deeper interest, and larger beneficence + belong to that ochreous earth of iron which stains the marble of your + springs. It stains much besides that marble. It stains the great earth + wheresoever you can see it, far and wide—it is the colouring + substance appointed to colour the globe for the sight, as well as subdue + it to the service of man. You have just seen your hills covered with snow, + and, perhaps, have enjoyed, at first, the contrast of their fair white + with the dark blocks of pine woods; but have you ever considered how you + would like them always white—not pure white, but dirty white—the + white of thaw, with all the chill of snow in it, but none of its + brightness? That is what the colour of the earth would be without its + iron; that would be its colour, not here or there only, but in all places, + and at all times. Follow out that idea till you get it in some detail. + Think first of your pretty gravel walks in your gardens, yellow and fine, + like plots of sunshine between the flower- beds; fancy them all suddenly + turned to the colour of ashes. That is what they would be without iron + ochre. Think of your winding walks over the common, as warm to the eye as + they are dry to the foot, and imagine them all laid down suddenly with + gray cinders. Then pass beyond the common into the country, and pause at + the first ploughed field that you see sweeping up the hill sides in the + sun, with its deep brown furrows, and wealth of ridges all a-glow, heaved + aside by the ploughshare, like deep folds of a mantle of russet velvet—fancy + it all changed suddenly into grisly furrows in a field of mud. That is + what it would be without iron. Pass on, in fancy, over hill and dale, till + you reach the bending line of the sea shore; go down upon its breezy beach—watch + the white foam flashing among the amber of it, and all the blue sea + embayed in belts of gold: then fancy those circlets of far sweeping shore + suddenly put into mounds of mourning—all those golden sands turned + into gray slime, the fairies no more able to call to each other, "Come + unto these yellow sands;" but, "Come unto these drab sands." That is what + they would be, without iron. + </p> + <p> + Iron is in some sort, therefore, the sunshine and light of landscape, so + far as that light depends on the ground; but it is a source of another + kind of sunshine, quite as important to us in the way we live at present—sunshine, + not of landscape, but of dwelling-place. + </p> + <p> + In these days of swift locomotion I may doubtless assume that most of my + audience have been somewhere out of England—have been in Scotland, + or France, or Switzerland. Whatever may have been their impression, on + returning to their own country, of its superiority or inferiority in other + respects, they cannot but have felt one thing about it—the + comfortable look of its towns and villages. Foreign towns are often very + picturesque, very beautiful, but they never have quite that look of warm + self-sufficiency and wholesome quiet, with which our villages nestle + themselves down among the green fields. If you will take the trouble to + examine into the sources of this impression, you will find that by far the + greater part of that warm and satisfactory appearance depends upon the + rich scarlet colour of the bricks and tiles. It does not belong to the + neat building—very neat building has an uncomfortable rather than a + comfortable look—but it depends on the <i>warm</i> building; our + villages are dressed in red tiles as our old women are in red cloaks; and + it does not matter how worn the cloaks, or how bent and bowed the roof may + be, so long as there are no holes in either one or the other, and the + sobered but unextinguishable colour still glows in the shadow of the hood, + and burns among the green mosses of the gable. And what do you suppose + dyes your tiles of cottage roof? You don't paint them. It is nature who + puts all that lovely vermilion into the clay for you; and all that lovely + vermilion is this oxide of iron. Think, therefore, what your streets of + towns would become—ugly enough, indeed, already, some of them, but + still comfortable-looking— if instead of that warm brick red, the + houses became all pepper-and- salt colour. Fancy your country villages + changing from that homely scarlet of theirs which, in its sweet suggestion + of laborious peace, is as honourable as the soldiers' scarlet of laborious + battle—suppose all those cottage roofs, I say, turned at once into + the colour of unbaked clay, the colour of street gutters in rainy weather. + That's what they would be, without iron. + </p> + <p> + There is, however, yet another effect of colour in our English country + towns which, perhaps, you may not all yourselves have noticed, but for + which you must take the word of a sketcher. They are not so often merely + warm scarlet as they are warm purple;—a more beautiful colour still: + and they owe this colour to a mingling with the vermilion of the deep + grayish or purple hue of our fine Welsh slates on the more respectable + roofs, made more blue still by the colour of intervening atmosphere. If + you examine one of these Welsh slates freshly broken, you will find its + purple colour clear and vivid; and although never strikingly so after it + has been long exposed to weather, it always retains enough of the tint to + give rich harmonies of distant purple in opposition to the green of our + woods and fields. Whatever brightness or power there is in the hue is + entirely owing to the oxide of iron. Without it the slates would either be + pale stone colour, or cold gray, or black. + </p> + <p> + Thus far we have only been considering the use and pleasantness of iron in + the common earth of clay. But there are three kinds of earth which in + mixed mass and prevalent quantity, form the world. Those are, in common + language, the earths of clay, of lime, and of flint. Many other elements + are mingled with these in sparing quantities; but the great frame and + substance of the earth is made of these three, so that wherever you stand + on solid ground, in any country of the globe, the thing that is mainly + under your feet will be either clay, limestone, or some condition of the + earth of flint, mingled with both. + </p> + <p> + These being what we have usually to deal with, Nature seems to have set + herself to make these three substances as interesting to us, and as + beautiful for us, as she can. The clay, being a soft and changeable + substance, she doesn't take much pains about, as we have seen, till it is + baked; she brings the colour into it only when it receives a permanent + form. But the limestone and flint she paints, in her own way, in their + native state: and her object in painting them seems to be much the same as + in her painting of flowers; to draw us, careless and idle human creatures, + to watch her a little, and see what she is about—that being on the + whole good for us,—her children. For Nature is always carrying on + very strange work with this limestone and flint of hers: laying down beds + of them at the bottom of the sea; building islands out of the sea; filling + chinks and veins in mountains with curious treasures; petrifying mosses, + and trees, and shells; in fact, carrying on all sorts of business, + subterranean or submarine, which it would be highly desirable for us, who + profit and live by it, to notice as it goes on. And apparently to lead us + to do this, she makes picture-books for us of limestone and flint; and + tempts us, like foolish children as we are, to read her books by the + pretty colours in them. The pretty colours in her limestone-books form + those variegated marbles which all mankind have taken delight to polish + and build with from the beginning of time; and the pretty colours in her + flint-books form those agates, jaspers, cornelians, bloodstones, onyxes, + cairngorms, chrysoprases, which men have in like manner taken delight to + cut, and polish, and make ornaments of, from the beginning of time; and + yet, so much of babies are they, and so fond of looking at the pictures + instead of reading the book, that I question whether, after six thousand + years of cutting and polishing, there are above two or three people out of + any given hundred, who know, or care to know, how a bit of agate or a bit + of marble was made, or painted. + </p> + <p> + How it was made, may not be always very easy to say; but with what it was + painted there is no manner of question. All those beautiful violet + veinings and variegations of the marbles of Sicily and Spain, the glowing + orange and amber colours of those of Siena, the deep russet of the Rosso + antico, and the blood-colour of all the precious jaspers that enrich the + temples of Italy; and, finally, all the lovely transitions of tint in the + pebbles of Scotland and the Rhine, which form, though not the most + precious, by far the most interesting portion of our modern jewellers' + work;—all these are painted by nature with this one material only, + variously proportioned and applied—the oxide of iron that stains + your Tunbridge springs. + </p> + <p> + But this is not all, nor the best part of the work of iron. Its service in + producing these beautiful stones is only rendered to rich people, who can + afford to quarry and polish them. But Nature paints for all the world, + poor and rich together: and while, therefore, she thus adorns the + innermost rocks of her hills, to tempt your investigation, or indulge your + luxury,—she paints, far more carefully, the outsides of the hills, + which are for the eyes of the shepherd and the ploughman. I spoke just now + of the effect in the roofs of our villages of their purple slates: but if + the slates are beautiful even in their flat and formal rows on + house-roofs, much more are they beautiful on the rugged crests and flanks + of their native mountains. Have you ever considered, in speaking as we do + so often of distant blue hills, what it is that makes them blue? To a + certain extent it is distance; but distance alone will not do it. Many + hills look white, however distant. That lovely dark purple colour of our + Welsh and Highland hills is owing, not to their distance merely, but to + their rocks. Some of their rocks are, indeed, too dark to be beautiful, + being black or ashy gray; owing to imperfect and porous structure. But + when you see this dark colour dashed with russet and blue, and coming out + in masses among the green ferns, so purple that you can hardly tell at + first whether it is rock or heather, then you must thank your old + Tunbridge friend, the oxide of iron. + </p> + <p> + But this is not all. It is necessary for the beauty of hill scenery that + Nature should colour not only her soft rocks, but her hard ones; and she + colours them with the same thing, only more beautifully. Perhaps you have + wondered at my use of the word "purple," so often of stones; but the + Greeks, and still more the Romans, who had profound respect for purple, + used it of stone long ago. You have all heard of "porphyry" as among the + most precious of the harder massive stones. The colour which gave it that + noble name, as well as that which gives the flush to all the rosy granite + of Egypt—yes, and to the rosiest summits of the Alps themselves—is + still owing to the same substance—your humble oxide of iron. + </p> + <p> + And last of all: + </p> + <p> + A nobler colour than all these—the noblest colour ever seen on this + earth—one which belongs to a strength greater than that of the + Egyptian granite, and to a beauty greater than that of the sunset or the + rose—is still mysteriously connected with the presence of this dark + iron. I believe it is not ascertained on what the crimson of blood + actually depends; but the colour is connected, of course, with its + vitality, and that vitality with the existence of iron as one of its + substantial elements. + </p> + <p> + Is it not strange to find this stern and strong metal mingled so + delicately in our human life, that we cannot even blush without its help? + Think of it, my fair and gentle hearers; how terrible the alternative—sometimes + you have actually no choice but to be brazen- faced, or iron-faced! + </p> + <p> + In this slight review of some of the functions of the metal, you observe + that I confine myself strictly to its operations as a colouring element. I + should only confuse your conception of the facts, if I endeavoured to + describe its uses as a substantial element, either in strengthening rocks, + or influencing vegetation by the decomposition of rocks. I have not, + therefore, even glanced at any of the more serious uses of the metal in + the economy of nature. But what I wish you to carry clearly away with you + is the remembrance that in all these uses the metal would be nothing + without the air. The pure metal has no power, and never occurs in nature + at all except in meteoric stones, whose fall no one can account for, and + which are useless after they have fallen: in the necessary work of the + world, the iron is invariably joined with the oxygen, and would be capable + of no service or beauty whatever without it. + </p> + <p> + II. IRON IN ART.—Passing, then, from the offices of the metal in the + operations of nature to its uses in the hands of man, you must remember, + in the outset, that the type which has been thus given you, by the + lifeless metal, of the action of body and soul together, has noble + antitype in the operation of all human power. All art worthy the name is + the energy—neither of the human body alone, nor of the human soul + alone, but of both united, one guiding the other: good craftsmanship and + work of the fingers, joined with good emotion and work of the heart. + </p> + <p> + There is no good art, nor possible judgment of art, when these two are not + united; yet we are constantly trying to separate them. Our amateurs cannot + be persuaded but that they may produce some kind of art by their fancy or + sensibility, without going through the necessary manual toil. That is + entirely hopeless. Without a certain number, and that a very great number, + of steady acts of hand—a practice as careful and constant as would + be necessary to learn any other manual business—no drawing is + possible. On the other side, the workman, and those who employ him, are + continually trying to produce art by trick or habit of fingers, without + using their fancy or sensibility. That also is hopeless. Without mingling + of heart-passion with hand-power, no art is possible. [Note: No fine art, + that is. See the previous definition of fine art at p. 38.] The highest + art unites both in their intensest degrees: the action of the hand at its + finest, with that of the heart at its fullest. + </p> + <p> + Hence it follows that the utmost power of art can only be given in a + material capable of receiving and retaining the influence of the subtlest + touch of the human hand. That hand is the most perfect agent of material + power existing in the universe; and its full subtlety can only be shown + when the material it works on, or with, is entirely yielding. The chords + of a perfect instrument will receive it, but not of an imperfect one; the + softly bending point of the hair pencil, and soft melting of colour, will + receive it, but not even the chalk or pen point, still less the steel + point, chisel, or marble. The hand of a sculptor may, indeed, be as subtle + as that of a painter, but all its subtlety is not bestowable nor + expressible: the touch of Titian, Correggio, or Turner, [Note: See + Appendix IV., "Subtlety of Hand."] is a far more marvellous piece of + nervous action than can be shown in anything but colour, or in the very + highest conditions of executive expression in music. In proportion as the + material worked upon is less delicate, the execution necessarily becomes + lower, and the art with it. This is one main principle of all work. + Another is, that whatever the material you choose to work with, your art + is base if it does not bring out the distinctive qualities of that + material. + </p> + <p> + The reason of this second law is, that if you don't want the qualities of + the substance you use, you ought to use some other substance: it can be + only affectation, and desire to display your skill, that lead you to + employ a refractory substance, and therefore your art will all be base. + Glass, for instance, is eminently, in its nature, transparent. If you + don't want transparency, let the glass alone. Do not try to make a window + look like an opaque picture, but take an opaque ground to begin with. + Again, marble is eminently a solid and massive substance. Unless you want + mass and solidity, don't work in marble. If you wish for lightness, take + wood; if for freedom, take stucco; if for ductility, take glass. Don't try + to carve leathers, or trees, or nets, or foam, out of marble. Carve white + limbs and broad breasts only out of that. + </p> + <p> + So again, iron is eminently a ductile and tenacious substance— + tenacious above all things, ductile more than most. When you want + tenacity, therefore, and involved form, take iron. It is eminently made + for that. It is the material given to the sculptor as the companion of + marble, with a message, as plain as it can well be spoken, from the lips + of the earth-mother, "Here's for you to cut, and here's for you to hammer. + Shape this, and twist that. What is solid and simple, carve out; what is + thin and entangled, beat out. I give you all kinds of forms to be + delighted in;—fluttering leaves as well as fair bodies; twisted + branches as well as open brows. The leaf and the branch you may beat and + drag into their imagery: the body and brow you shall reverently touch into + their imagery. And if you choose rightly and work rightly, what you do + shall be safe afterwards. Your slender leaves shall not break off in my + tenacious iron, though they may be rusted a little with an iron autumn. + Your broad surfaces shall not be unsmoothed in my pure crystalline marble—no + decay shall touch them. But if you carve in the marble what will break + with a touch, or mould in the metal what a stain of rust or verdigris will + spoil, it is your fault—not mine." + </p> + <p> + These are the main principles in this matter; which, like nearly all other + right principles in art, we moderns delight in contradicting as directly + and specially as may be. We continually look for, and praise, in our + exhibitions the sculpture of veils, and lace, and thin leaves, and all + kinds of impossible things pushed as far as possible in the fragile stone, + for the sake of showing the sculptor's dexterity. [Note: I do not mean to + attach any degree of blame to the effort to represent leafage in marble + for certain expressive purposes. The later works of Mr. Munro have + depended for some of their most tender thoughts on a delicate and skilful + use of such accessories. And in general, leaf sculpture is good and + admirable, if it renders, as in Gothic work, the grace and lightness of + the leaf by the arrangement of light and shadow —supporting the + masses well by strength of stone below; but all carving is base which + proposes to itself <i>slightness</i> as an aim, and tries to imitate the + absolute thinness of thin or slight things, as much modern wood carving + does, I saw in Italy, a year or two ago, a marble sculpture of birds' + nests.] On the other hand, we <i>cast</i> our iron into bars—brittle, + though an inch thick—sharpen them at the ends, and consider fences, + and other work, made of such materials, decorative! I do not believe it + would be easy to calculate the amount of mischief done to our taste in + England by that fence iron-work of ours alone. If it were asked of us by a + single characteristic, to distinguish the dwellings of a country into two + broad sections; and to set, on one side, the places where people were, for + the most part, simple, happy, benevolent, and honest; and, on the other + side, the places where at least a great number of the people were + sophisticated, unkind, uncomfortable, and unprincipled, there is, I think, + one feature that you could fix upon as a positive test: the uncomfortable + and unprincipled parts of a country would be the parts where people lived + among iron railings, and the comfortable and principled parts where they + had none. A broad generalization, you will say! Perhaps a little too + broad; yet, in all sobriety, it will come truer than you think. Consider + every other kind of fence or defence, and you will find some virtue in it; + but in the iron railing none. There is, first, your castle rampart of + stone—somewhat too grand to be considered here among our types of + fencing; next, your garden or park wall of brick, which has indeed often + an unkind look on the outside, but there is more modesty in it than + unkindness. It generally means, not that the builder of it wants to shut + you out from the view of his garden, but from the view of himself: it is a + frank statement that as he needs a certain portion of time to himself, so + he needs a certain portion of ground to himself, and must not be stared at + when he digs there in his shirt- sleeves, or plays at leapfrog with his + boys from school, or talks over old times with his wife, walking up and + down in the evening sunshine. Besides, the brick wall has good practical + service in it, and shelters you from the east wind, and ripens your + peaches and nectarines, and glows in autumn like a sunny bank. And, + moreover, your brick wall, if you build it properly, so that it shall + stand long enough, is a beautiful thing when it is old, and has assumed + its grave purple red, touched with mossy green. + </p> + <p> + Next to your lordly wall, in dignity of enclosure, comes your close-set + wooden paling, which is more objectionable, because it commonly means + enclosure on a larger scale than people want. Still it is significative of + pleasant parks, and well-kept field walks, and herds of deer, and other + such aristocratic pastoralisms, which have here and there their proper + place in a country, and may be passed without any discredit. + </p> + <p> + Next to your paling, comes your low stone dyke, your mountain fence, + indicative at a glance either of wild hill country, or of beds of stone + beneath the soil; the hedge of the mountains—delightful in all its + associations, and yet more in the varied and craggy forms of the loose + stones it is built of; and next to the low stone wall, your lowland hedge, + either in trim line of massive green, suggested of the pleasances of old + Elizabethan houses, and smooth alleys for aged feet, and quaint labyrinths + for young ones, or else in fair entanglement of eglantine and virgin's + bower, tossing its scented luxuriance along our country waysides;—how + many such you have here among your pretty hills, fruitful with black + clusters of the bramble for boys in autumn, and crimson hawthorn berries + for birds in winter. And then last, and most difficult to class among + fences, comes your handrail, expressive of all sorts of things; sometimes + having a knowing and vicious look, which it learns at race-courses; + sometimes an innocent and tender look, which it learns at rustic bridges + over cressy brooks; and sometimes a prudent and protective look, which it + learns on passes of the Alps, where it has posts of granite and bars of + pine, and guards the brows of cliffs and the banks of torrents. So that in + all these kinds of defence there is some good, pleasant, or noble meaning. + But what meaning has the iron railing? Either, observe, that you are + living in the midst of such bad characters that you must keep them out by + main force of bar, or that you are yourself of a character requiring to be + kept inside in the same manner. Your iron railing always means thieves + outside, or Bedlam inside; it <i>can</i> mean nothing else than that. If + the people outside were good for anything, a hint in the way of fence + would be enough for them; but because they are violent and at enmity with + you, you are forced to put the close bars and the spikes at the top. + </p> + <p> + Last summer I was lodging for a little while in a cottage in the country, + and in front of my low window there were, first some beds of daisies, then + a row of gooseberry and currant bushes, and then a low wall about three + feet above the ground, covered with stone-cress. Outside, a corn-field, + with its green ears glistening in the sun, and a field path through it, + just past the garden gate. From my window I could see every peasant of the + village who passed that way, with basket on arm for market, or spade on + shoulder for field. When I was inclined for society, I could lean over my + wall, and talk to anybody; when I was inclined for science, I could + botanize all along the top of my wall— there were four species of + stone-cress alone growing on it; and when I was inclined for exercise, I + could jump over my wall, backwards and forwards. That's the sort of fence + to have in a Christian country; not a thing which you can't walk inside of + without making yourself look like a wild beast, nor look at out of your + window in the morning without expecting to see somebody impaled upon it in + the night. + </p> + <p> + And yet farther, observe that the iron railing is a useless fence—it + can shelter nothing, and support nothing; you can't nail your peaches to + it, nor protect your flowers with it, nor make anything whatever out of + its costly tyranny; and besides being useless, it is an insolent fence;—it + says plainly to everybody who passes—"You may be an honest person,—but, + also, you may be a thief: honest or not, you shall not get in here, for I + am a respectable person, and much above you; you shall only see what a + grand place I have got to keep you out of—look here, and depart in + humiliation." + </p> + <p> + This, however, being in the present state of civilization a frequent + manner of discourse, and there being unfortunately many districts where + the iron railing is unavoidable, it yet remains a question whether you + need absolutely make it ugly, no less than significative of evil. You must + have railings round your squares in London, and at the sides of your + areas; but need you therefore have railings so ugly that the constant + sight of them is enough to neutralise the effect of all the schools of art + in the kingdom? You need not. Far from such necessity, it is even in your + power to turn all your police force of iron bars actually into drawing + masters, and natural historians. Not, of course, without some trouble and + some expense; you can do nothing much worth doing, in this world, without + trouble, you can get nothing much worth having without expense. The main + question is only—what is worth doing and having:—Consider, + therefore, if this be not. Here is your iron railing, as yet, an + uneducated monster; a sombre seneschal, incapable of any words, except his + perpetual "Keep out!" and "Away with you!" Would it not be worth some + trouble and cost to turn this ungainly ruffian porter into a well-educated + servant; who, while he was severe as ever in forbidding entrance to + evilly-disposed people, should yet have a kind word for well-disposed + people, and a pleasant look, and a little useful information at his + command, in case he should be asked a question by the passers-by? + </p> + <p> + We have not time to-night to look at many examples of ironwork; and those + I happen to have by me are not the best; ironwork is not one of my special + subjects of study; so that I only have memoranda of bits that happened to + come into picturesque subjects which I was drawing for other reasons. + Besides, external ironwork is more difficult to find good than any other + sort of ancient art; for when it gets rusty and broken, people are sure, + if they can afford it, to send it to the old iron shop, and get a fine new + grating instead; and in the great cities of Italy, the old iron is thus + nearly all gone: the best bits I remember in the open air were at Brescia;—fantastic + sprays of laurel- like foliage rising over the garden gates; and there are + a few fine fragments at Verona, and some good trellis-work enclosing the + Scala tombs; but on the whole, the most interesting pieces, though by no + means the purest in style, are to be found in out-of-the-way provincial + towns, where people do not care, or are unable, to make polite + alterations. The little town of Bellinzona, for instance, on the south of + the Alps, and that of Sion on the north, have both of them complete + schools of ironwork in their balconies and vineyard gates. That of + Bellinzona is the best, though not very old—I suppose most of it of + the seventeenth century; still it is very quaint and beautiful. Here, for + example, are two balconies, from two different houses; one has been a + cardinal's, and the hat is the principal ornament of the balcony; its + tassels being wrought with delightful delicacy and freedom; and catching + the eye clearly even among the mass of rich wreathed leaves. These tassels + and strings are precisely the kind of subject fit for ironwork—noble + in ironwork, they would have been entirely ignoble in marble, on the + grounds above stated. The real plant of oleander standing in the window + enriches the whole group of lines very happily. + </p> + <p> + The other balcony, from a very ordinary-looking house in the same street, + is much more interesting in its details. It is shown in the plate as it + appeared last summer, with convolvulus twined about the bars, the + arrow-shaped living leaves mingled among the leaves of iron; but you may + see in the centre of these real leaves a cluster of lighter ones, which + are those of the ironwork itself. This cluster is worth giving a little + larger to show its treatment. Fig. 2 (in Appendix V.) is the front view of + it: Fig. 4, its profile. It is composed of a large tulip in the centre; + then two turkscap lilies; then two pinks, a little conventionalized; then + two narcissi; then two nondescripts, or, at least, flowers I do not know; + and then two dark buds, and a few leaves. I say, dark buds, for all these + flowers have been coloured in their original state. The plan of the group + is exceedingly simple: it is all enclosed in a pointed arch (Fig. 3, + Appendix V.): the large mass of the tulip forming the apex; a six-foiled + star on each side; then a jagged star; then a five-foiled star; then an + unjagged star or rose; finally a small bud, so as to establish relation + and cadence through the whole group. The profile is very free and fine, + and the upper bar of the balcony exceedingly beautiful in effect;—none + the less so on account of the marvellously simple means employed. A thin + strip of iron is bent over a square rod; out of the edge of this strip are + cut a series of triangular openings—widest at top, leaving + projecting teeth of iron (Appendix, Fig. 5); then each of these projecting + pieces gets a little sharp tap with the hammer in front, which beaks its + edge inwards, tearing it a little open at the same time, and the thing is + done. + </p> + <p> + The common forms of Swiss ironwork are less naturalistic than these + Italian balconies, depending more on beautiful arrangements of various + curve; nevertheless, there has been a rich naturalist school at Fribourg, + where a few bell-handles are still left, consisting of rods branched into + laurel and other leafage. At Geneva, modern improvements have left + nothing; but at Annecy, a little good work remains; the balcony of its old + hōtel de ville especially, with a trout of the lake —presumably the + town arms—forming its central ornament. + </p> + <p> + I might expatiate all night—if you would sit and hear me—on + the treatment of such required subject, or introduction of pleasant + caprice by the old workmen; but we have no more time to spare, and I must + quit this part of our subject—the rather as I could not explain to + you the intrinsic merit of such ironwork without going fully into the + theory of curvilinear design; only let me leave with you this one distinct + assertion—that the quaint beauty and character of many natural + objects, such as intricate branches, grass, foliage (especially thorny + branches and prickly foliage), as well as that of many animals, plumed, + spined, or bristled, is sculpturally expressible in iron only, and in iron + would be majestic and impressive in the highest degree; and that every + piece of metal work you use might be, rightly treated, not only a superb + decoration, but a most valuable abstract of portions of natural forms, + holding in dignity precisely the same relation to the painted + representation of plants, that a statue does to the painted form of man. + It is difficult to give you an idea of the grace and interest which the + simplest objects possess when their forms are thus abstracted from among + the surrounding of rich circumstance which in nature disturbs the + feebleness of our attention. In Plate 2, a few blades of common green + grass, and a wild leaf or two—just as they were thrown by nature,—are + thus abstracted from the associated redundance of the forms about them, + and shown on a dark ground: every cluster of herbage would furnish fifty + such groups, and every such group would work into iron (fitting it, of + course, rightly to its service) with perfect ease, and endless grandeur of + result. + </p> + <p> + III. IRON in POLICY.—Having thus obtained some idea of the use of + iron in art, as dependent on its ductility, I need not, certainly, say + anything of its uses in manufacture and commerce; we all of us know + enough,—perhaps a little too much—about <i>them</i>. So I pass + lastly to consider its uses in policy; dependent chiefly upon its tenacity— + that is to say, on its power of bearing a pull, and receiving an edge. + These powers, which enable it to pierce, to bind, and to smite, render it + fit for the three great instruments, by which its political action may be + simply typified; namely, the Plough, the Fetter, and the Sword. + </p> + <p> + On our understanding the right use of these three instruments, depend, of + course, all our power as a nation, and all our happiness as individuals. + </p> + <p> + I. THE PLOUGH.—I say, first, on our understanding the right use of + the plough, with which, in justice to the fairest of our labourers, we + must always associate that feminine plough—the needle. The first + requirement for the happiness of a nation is that it should understand the + function in this world of these two great instruments: a happy nation may + be defined as one in which the husband's hand is on the plough, and the + housewife's on the needle; so in due time reaping its golden harvest, and + shining in golden vesture: and an unhappy nation is one which, + acknowledging no use of plough nor needle, will assuredly at last find its + storehouse empty in the famine, and its breast naked to the cold. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps you think this is a mere truism, which I am wasting your time in + repeating. I wish it were. + </p> + <p> + By far the greater part of the suffering and crime which exist at this + moment in civilized Europe, arises simply from people not understanding + this truism—not knowing that produce or wealth is eternally + connected by the laws of heaven and earth with resolute labour; but hoping + in some way to cheat or abrogate this everlasting law of life, and to feed + where they have not furrowed, and be warm where they have not woven. + </p> + <p> + I repeat, nearly all our misery and crime result from this one + misapprehension. The law of nature is, that a certain quantity of work is + necessary to produce a certain quantity of good, of any kind whatever. If + you want knowledge, you must toil for it: if food, you must toil for it; + and if pleasure, you must toil for it. But men do not acknowledge this + law, or strive to evade it, hoping to get their knowledge, and food, and + pleasure for nothing; and in this effort they either fail of getting them, + and remain ignorant and miserable, or they obtain them by making other men + work for their benefit; and then they are tyrants and robbers. Yes, and + worse than robbers. I am not one who in the least doubts or disputes the + progress of this century in many things useful to mankind; but it seems to + me a very dark sign respecting us that we look with so much indifference + upon dishonesty and cruelty in the pursuit of wealth. In the dream of + Nebuchadnezzar it was only the <i>feet</i> that were part of iron and part + of clay; but many of us are now getting so cruel in our avarice, that it + seems as if, in us, the <i>heart</i> were part of iron, and part of clay. + </p> + <p> + From what I have heard of the inhabitants of this town, I do not doubt but + that I may be permitted to do here what I have found it usually thought + elsewhere highly improper and absurd to do, namely, trace a few Bible + sentences to their practical result. + </p> + <p> + You cannot but have noticed how often in those parts of the Bible which + are likely to be oftenest opened when people look for guidance, comfort, + or help in the affairs of daily life, namely, the Psalms and Proverbs, + mention is made of the guilt attaching to the <i>Oppression</i> of the + poor. Observe: not the neglect of them, but the <i>Oppression</i> of them: + the word is as frequent as it is strange. You can hardly open either of + those books, but somewhere in their pages you will find a description of + the wicked man's attempts against the poor: such as—"He doth ravish + the poor when he getteth him into his net." + </p> + <p> + "He sitteth in the lurking places of the villages; his eyes are privily + set against the poor." + </p> + <p> + "In his pride he doth persecute the poor, and blesseth the covetous, whom + God abhorreth." + </p> + <p> + "His mouth is full of deceit and fraud; in the secret places doth he + murder the innocent. Have the workers of iniquity no knowledge, who eat up + my people as they eat bread? They have drawn out the sword, and bent the + bow, to cast down the poor and needy." + </p> + <p> + "They are corrupt, and speak wickedly concerning oppression." + </p> + <p> + "Pride compasseth them about as a chain, and violence as a garment." + </p> + <p> + "Their poison is like the poison of a serpent. Ye weigh the violence of + your hands in the earth." + </p> + <p> + Yes: "Ye weigh the violence of your hands:"—weigh these words as + well. The last things we ever usually think of weighing are Bible words. + We like to dream and dispute over them; but to weigh them, and see what + their true contents are—anything but that. Yet, weigh these; for I + have purposely taken all these verses, perhaps more striking to you read + in this connection, than separately in their places, out of the Psalms, + because, for all people belonging to the Established Church of this + country these Psalms are appointed lessons, portioned out to them by their + clergy to be read once through every month. Presumably, therefore, + whatever portions of Scripture we may pass by or forget, these at all + events, must be brought continually to our observance as useful for + direction of daily life. Now, do we ever ask ourselves what the real + meaning of these passages may be, and who these wicked people are, who are + "murdering the innocent?" You know it is rather singular language this!—rather + strong language, we might, perhaps, call it— hearing it for the + first time. Murder! and murder of innocent people!— nay, even a sort + of cannibalism. Eating people,—yes, and God's people, too—eating + <i>My</i> people as if they were bread! swords drawn, bows bent, poison of + serpents mixed! violence of hands weighed, measured, and trafficked with + as so much coin! where is all this going on? Do you suppose it was only + going on in the time of David, and that nobody but Jews ever murder the + poor? If so, it would surely be wiser not to mutter and mumble for our + daily lessons what does not concern us; but if there be any chance that it + may concern us, and if this description, in the Psalms, of human guilt is + at all generally applicable, as the descriptions in the Psalms of human + sorrow are, may it not be advisable to know wherein this guilt is being + committed round about us, or by ourselves? and when we take the words of + the Bible into our mouths in a congregational way, to be sure whether we + mean merely to chant a piece of melodious poetry relating to other people—(we + know not exactly to whom)—or to assert our belief in facts bearing + somewhat stringently on ourselves and our daily business. And if you make + up your minds to do this no longer, and take pains to examine into the + matter, you will find that these strange words, occurring as they do, not + in a few places only, but almost in every alternate psalm and every + alternate chapter of proverb, or prophecy, with tremendous reiteration, + were not written for one nation or one time only; but for all nations and + languages, for all places and all centuries; and it is as true of the + wicked man now as ever it was of Nabal or Dives, that "his eyes are set + against the poor." + </p> + <p> + Set <i>against</i> the poor, mind you. Not merely set <i>away</i> from the + poor, so as to neglect or lose sight of them, but set against, so as to + afflict and destroy them. This is the main point I want to fix. your + attention upon. You will often hear sermons about neglect or carelessness + of the poor. But neglect and carelessness are not at all the points. The + Bible hardly ever talks about neglect of the poor. It always talks of <i>oppression</i> + of the poor—a very different matter. It does not merely speak of + passing by on the other side, and binding up no wounds, but of drawing the + sword and ourselves smiting the men down. It does not charge us with being + idle in the pest-house, and giving no medicine, but with being busy in the + pest-house, and giving much poison. + </p> + <p> + May we not advisedly look into this matter a little, even tonight, and ask + first, Who are these poor? + </p> + <p> + No country is, or ever will be, without them: that is to say, without the + class which cannot, on the average, do more by its labour than provide for + its subsistence, and which has no accumulations of property laid by on any + considerable scale. Now there are a certain number of this class whom we + cannot oppress with much severity. An able-bodied and intelligent workman—sober, + honest, and industrious, will almost always command a fair price for his + work, and lay by enough in a few years to enable him to hold his own in + the labour market. But all men are not able-bodied, nor intelligent, nor + industrious; and you cannot expect them to be. Nothing appears to me at + once more ludicrous and more melancholy than the way the people of the + present age usually talk about the morals of labourers. You hardly ever + address a labouring man upon his prospects in life, without quietly + assuming that he is to possess, at starting, as a small moral capital to + begin with, the virtue of Socrates, the philosophy of Plato, and the + heroism of Epaminondas. "Be assured, my good man,"—you say to him,—"that + if you work steadily for ten hours a day all your life long, and if you + drink nothing but water, or the very mildest beer, and live on very plain + food, and never lose your temper, and go to church every Sunday, and + always remain content in the position in which Providence has placed you, + and never grumble nor swear; and always keep your clothes decent, and rise + early, and use every opportunity of improving yourself, you will get on + very well, and never come to the parish." + </p> + <p> + All this is exceedingly true; but before giving the advice so confidently, + it would be well if we sometimes tried it practically ourselves, and spent + a year or so at some hard manual labour, not of an entertaining kind—ploughing + or digging, for instance, with a very moderate allowance of beer; nothing + hut bread and cheese for dinner; no papers nor muffins in the morning; no + sofas nor magazines at night; one small room for parlour and kitchen; and + a large family of children always in the middle of the floor. If we think + we could, under these circumstances, enact Socrates or Epaminondas + entirely to our own satisfaction, we shall be somewhat justified in + requiring the same behaviour from our poorer neighbours; but if not, we + should surely consider a little whether among the various forms of the + oppression of the poor, we may not rank as one of the first and likeliest—the + oppression of expecting too much from them. + </p> + <p> + But let this pass; and let it be admitted that we can never be guilty of + oppression towards the sober, industrious, intelligent, exemplary + labourer. There will always be in the world some who are not altogether, + intelligent and exemplary; we shall, I believe, to the end of time find + the majority somewhat unintelligent, a little inclined to be idle, and + occasionally, on Saturday night, drunk; we must even be prepared to hear + of reprobates who like skittles on Sunday morning better than prayers; and + of unnatural parents who send their children out to beg instead of to go + to school. + </p> + <p> + Now these are the kind of people whom you <i>can</i> oppress, and whom you + do oppress, and that to purpose,—and with all the more cruelty and + the greater sting, because it is just their own fault that puts them into + your power. You know the words about wicked people are, "He doth ravish + the poor when he getteth him <i>into his net</i>." This getting into the + net is constantly the fault or folly of the sufferer—his own + heedlessness or his own indolence; but after he is once in the net, the + oppression of him, and making the most of his distress, are ours. The nets + which we use against the poor are just those worldly embarrassments which + either their ignorance or their improvidence are almost certain at some + time or other to bring them into: then, just at the time when we ought to + hasten to help them, and disentangle them, and teach them how to manage + better in future, we rush forward to <i>pillage</i> them, and force all we + can out of them in their adversity. For, to take one instance only, + remember this is literally and simply what we do, whenever we buy, or try + to buy, cheap goods— goods offered at a price which we know cannot + be remunerative for the labour involved in them. Whenever we buy such + goods, remember we are stealing somebody's labour. Don't let us mince the + matter. I say, in plain Saxon, STEALING—taking from him the proper + reward of his work, and putting it into our own pocket. You know well + enough that the thing could not have been offered you at that price, + unless distress of some kind had forced the producer to part with it. You + take advantage of this distress, and you force as much out of him as you + can under the circumstances. The old barons of the middle ages used, in + general, the thumbscrew to extort property; we moderns use, in preference, + hunger or domestic affliction: but the fact of extortion remains precisely + the same. Whether we force the man's property from him by pinching his + stomach, or pinching his fingers, makes some difference anatomically;— + morally, none whatsoever: we use a form of torture of some sort in order + to make him give up his property; we use, indeed, the man's own anxieties, + instead of the rack; and his immediate peril of starvation, instead of the + pistol at the head; but otherwise we differ from Front de Buf, or Dick + Turpin, merely in being less dexterous, more cowardly, and more cruel. + More cruel, I say, because the fierce baron and the redoubted highwayman + are reported to have robbed, at least by preference, only the rich; <i>we</i> + steal habitually from the poor. We buy our liveries, and gild our + prayer-books, with pilfered pence out of children's and sick men's wages, + and thus ingeniously dispose a given quantity of Theft, so that it may + produce the largest possible measure of delicately distributed suffering. + </p> + <p> + But this is only one form of common oppression of the poor—only one + way of taking our hands off the plough handle, and binding another's upon + it. This first way of doing it is the economical way—the way + preferred by prudent and virtuous people. The bolder way is the + acquisitive way:—the way of speculation. You know we are considering + at present the various modes in which a nation corrupts itself, by not + acknowledging the eternal connection between its plough and its pleasure;—by + striving to get pleasure, without working for it. Well, I say the first + and commonest way of doing so is to try to get the product of other + people's work, and enjoy it ourselves, by cheapening their labour in times + of distress: then the second way is that grand one of watching the chances + of the market;—the way of speculation. Of course there are some + speculations that are fair and honest— speculations made with our + own money, and which do not involve in their success the loss, by others, + of what we gain. But generally modern speculation involves much risk to + others, with chance of profit only to ourselves: even in its best + conditions it is merely one of the forms of gambling or treasure hunting; + it is either leaving the steady plough and the steady pilgrimage of life, + to look for silver mines beside the way; or else it is the full stop + beside the dice-tables in Vanity Fair —investing all the thoughts + and passions of the soul in the fall of the cards, and choosing rather the + wild accidents of idle fortune than the calm and accumulative rewards of + toil. And this is destructive enough, at least to our peace and virtue. + But is usually destructive of far more than <i>our</i> peace, or <i>our</i> + virtue. Have you ever deliberately set yourselves to imagine and measure + the suffering, the guilt, and the mortality caused necessarily by the + failure of any large-dealing merchant, or largely-branched bank? Take it + at the lowest possible supposition- count, at the fewest you choose, the + families whose means of support have been involved in the catastrophe. + Then, on the morning after the intelli- gence of ruin, let us go forth + amongst them in earnest thought; let us use that imagination which we + waste so often on fictitious sorrow, to measure the stern facts of that + multitudinous distress; strike open the private doors of their chambers, + and enter silently into the midst of the domestic misery; look upon the + old men, who had reserved for their failing strength some remainder of + rest in the evening-tide of life, cast helplessly back into its trouble + and tumult; look upon the active strength of middle age suddenly blasted + into incapacity—its hopes crushed, and its hardly earned rewards + snatched away in the same instant—at once the heart withered, and + the right arm snapped; look upon the piteous children, delicately + nurtured, whose soft eyes, now large with wonder at their parents' grief, + must soon be set in the dimness of famine; and, far more than all this, + look forward to the length of sorrow beyond—to the hardest labour of + life, now to be undergone either in all the severity of unexpected and + inexperienced trial, or else, more bitter still, to be begun again, and + endured for the second time, amidst the ruins of cherished hopes and the + feebleness of advancing years, embittered by the continual sting and taunt + of the inner feeling that it has all been brought about, not by the fair + course of appointed circumstance, but by miserable chance and wanton + treachery; and, last of all, look beyond this—to the shattered + destinies of those who have faltered under the trial, and sunk past + recovery to despair. And then consider whether the hand which has poured + this poison into all the springs of life be one whit less guiltily red + with human blood than that which literally pours the hemlock into the cup, + or guides the dagger to the heart? We read with horror of the crimes of a + Borgia or a Tophana; but there never lived Borgias such as live now in the + midst of us. The cruel lady of Ferrara slew only in the strength of + passion—she slew only a few, those who thwarted her purposes or who + vexed her soul; she slew sharply and suddenly, embittering the fate of her + victims with no foretastes of destruction, no prolongations of pain; and, + finally and chiefly, she slew, not without remorse, nor without pity. But + <i>we,</i> in no storm of passion—in no blindness of wrath,—we, + in calm and clear and untempted selfishness, pour our poison—not for + a few only, but for multitudes;—not for those who have wronged us, + or resisted,—but for those who have trusted us and aided:—we, + not with sudden gift of merciful and unconscious death, but with slow + waste of hunger and weary rack of disappointment and despair;—we, + last and chiefly, do our murdering, not with any pauses of pity or + scorching of conscience, but in facile and forgetful calm of mind—and + so, forsooth, read day by day, complacently, as if they meant any one else + than ourselves, the words that forever describe the wicked: "The <i>poison + of asps</i> is under their lips, and their <i>feet are swift to shed + blood.</i>" + </p> + <p> + You may indeed, perhaps, think there is some excuse for many in this + matter, just because the sin is so unconscious; that the guilt is not so + great when it is unapprehended, and that it is much more pardonable to + slay heedlessly than purposefully. I believe no feeling can be more + mistaken, and that in reality, and in the sight of heaven; the callous + indifference which pursues its own interests at any cost of life, though + it does not definitely adopt the purpose of sin, is a state of mind at + once more heinous and more hopeless than the wildest aberrations of + ungoverned passion. There may be, in the last case, some elements of good + and of redemption still mingled in the character; but, in the other, few + or none. There may be hope for the man who has slain his enemy in anger; + hope even for the man who has betrayed his friend in fear; but what hope + for him who trades in unregarded blood, and builds his fortune on + unrepented treason? + </p> + <p> + But, however this may be, and wherever you may think yourselves bound in + justice to impute the greater sin, be assured that the question is one of + responsibilities only, not of facts. The definite result of all our modern + haste to be rich is assuredly, and constantly, the murder of a certain + number of persons by our hands every year. I have not time to go into the + details of another—on the whole, the broadest and terriblest way in + which we cause the destruction of the poor—namely, the way of luxury + and waste, destroying, in improvidence, what might have been the support + of thousands; [Note: The analysis of this error will be found completely + carried out in my lectures on the political economy of art. And it is an + error worth analyzing; for until it is finally trodden under foot, no + healthy political, economical, or moral action is <i>possible</i> in any + state. I do not say this impetuously or suddenly, for I have investigated + this subject as deeply; and as long, as my own special subject of art; and + the principles of political economy which I have stated in those lectures + are as sure as the principles of Euclid. Foolish readers doubted their + certainty, because I told them I had "never read any books on Political + Economy" Did they suppose I had got my knowledge of art by reading books?] + but if you follow out the subject for yourselves at home—and what I + have endeavoured to lay before you to-night will only be useful to you if + you do—you will find that wherever and whenever men are endeavouring + to <i>make money hastily</i>, and to avoid the labour which Providence has + appointed to be tho only source of honourable profit;—and also + wherever and whenever they permit themselves to <i>spend it luxuriously</i>, + without reflecting how far they are misguiding the labour of others;—there + and then, in either case, they are literally and infallibly causing, for + their own benefit or their own pleasure, a certain annual number of human + deaths; that, therefore, the choice given to every man born into this + world is, simply, whether he will be a labourer, or an assassin; and that + whosoever has not his hand on the Stilt of the plough, has it on the Hilt + of the dagger. + </p> + <p> + It would also be quite vain for me to endeavour to follow out this evening + the lines of thought which would be suggested by the other two great + political uses of iron in the Fetter and the Sword: a few words only I + must permit myself respecting both. + </p> + <p> + 2. THE FETTER.—As the plough is the typical instrument of industry, + so the fetter is the typical instrument of the restraint or subjection + necessary in a nation—either literally, for its evil-doers, or + figuratively, in accepted laws, for its wise and good men. You have to + choose between this figurative and literal use; for depend upon it, the + more laws you accept, the fewer penalties you will have to endure, and the + fewer punishments to enforce. For wise laws and just restraints are to a + noble nation not chains, but chain mail—strength and defence, though + something also of an incumbrance. And this necessity of restraint, + remember, is just as honourable to man as the necessity of labour. You + hear every day greater numbers of foolish people speaking about liberty, + as if it were such an honourable thing: so far from being that, it is, on + the whole, and in the broadest sense, dishonourable, and an attribute of + the lower creatures. No human being, however great or powerful, was ever + so free as a fish. There is always something that he must, or must not do; + while the fish may do whatever he likes. All the kingdoms of the world put + together are not half so large as the sea, and all the railroads and + wheels that ever were, or will be, invented are not so easy as fins. You + will find, on fairly thinking of it, that it is his Restraint which is + honourable to man, not his Liberty; and, what is more, it is restraint + which is honourable even in the lower animals. A butterfly is much more + free than a bee; but you honour the bee more, just because it is subject + to certain laws which fit it for orderly function in bee society And + throughout the world, of the two abstract things, liberty and restraint, + restraint is always the more honourable. It is true, indeed, that in these + and all other matters you never can reason finally from the abstraction, + for both liberty and restraint are good when they are nobly chosen, and + both are bad when they are basely chosen; but of the two, I repeat, it is + restraint which characterizes the higher creature, and betters the lower + creature: and, from the ministering of the archangel to the labour of the + insect,—from the poising of the planets to the gravitation of a + grain of dust,—the power and glory of all creatures, and all matter, + consist in their obedience, not in their freedom. The Sun has no liberty—a + dead leaf has much. The dust of which you are formed has no liberty. Its + liberty will come—with its corruption. + </p> + <p> + And, therefore, I say boldly, though it seems a strange thing to say in + England, that as the first power of a nation consists in knowing how to + guide the Plough, its second power consists in knowing how to wear the + Fetter:— + </p> + <p> + 3. THE SWORD.—And its third power, which perfects it as a nation, + consist in knowing how to wield the sword, so that the three talismans of + national existence are expressed in these three short words—Labour, + Law, and Courage. + </p> + <p> + This last virtue we at least possess; and all that is to be alleged + against us is that we do not honour it enough. I do not mean honour by + acknowledgment of service, though sometimes we are slow in doing even + that. But we do not honour it enough in consistent regard to the lives and + souls of our soldiers. How wantonly we have wasted their lives you have + seen lately in the reports of their mortality by disease, which a little + care and science might have prevented; but we regard their souls less than + their lives, by keeping them in ignorance and idleness, and regarding them + merely as instruments of battle. The argument brought forward for the + maintenance of a standing army usually refers only to expediency in the + case of unexpected war, whereas, one of the chief reasons for the + maintenance of an army is the advantage of the military system as a method + of education. The most fiery and headstrong, who are often also the most + gifted and generous of your youths, have always a tendency both in the + lower and upper classes to offer themselves for your soldiers: others, + weak and unserviceable in a civil capacity, are tempted or entrapped into + the army in a fortunate hour for them: out of this fiery or uncouth + material, it is only a soldier's discipline which can bring the full value + and power. Even at present, by mere force of order and authority, the army + is the salvation of myriads; and men who, under other circumstances, would + have sunk into lethargy or dissipation, are redeemed into noble life by a + service which at once summons and directs their energies. How much more + than this military education is capable of doing, you will find only when + you make it education indeed. We have no excuse for leaving our private + soldiers at their present level of ignorance and want of refinement, for + we shall invariably find that, both among officers and men, the gentlest + and best informed are the bravest; still less have we excuse for + diminishing our army, either in the present state of political events, or, + as I believe, in any other conjunction of them that for many a year will + be possible in this world. + </p> + <p> + You may, perhaps, be surprised at my saying this; perhaps surprised at my + implying that war itself can be right, or necessary, or noble at all. Nor + do I speak of all war as necessary, nor of all war as noble. Both peace + and war are noble or ignoble according to their kind and occasion. No man + has a profounder sense of the horror and guilt of ignoble war than I have: + I have personally seen its effects, upon nations, of unmitigated evil, on + soul and body, with perhaps as much pity, and as much bitterness of + indignation, as any of those whom you will hear continually declaiming in + the cause of peace. But peace may be sought in two ways. One way is as + Gideon sought it, when he built his altar in Ophrah, naming it, "God send + peace," yet sought this peace that he loved, as he was ordered to seek it, + and the peace was sent, in God's way:—"the country was in quietness + forty years in the days of Gideon." And the other way of seeking peace is + as Menahem sought it when he gave the King of Assyria a thousand talents + of silver, that "his hand might be with him." That is, you may either win + your peace, or buy it:—win it, by resistance to evil;—buy it, + by compromise with evil. You may buy your peace, with silenced + consciences;—you may buy it, with broken vows,—buy it, with + lying words,—buy it, with base connivances,—buy it, with the + blood of the slain, and the cry of the captive, and the silence of lost + souls—over hemispheres of the earth, while you sit smiling at your + serene hearths, lisping comfortable prayers evening and morning, and + counting your pretty Protestant beads (which are flat, and of gold, + instead of round, and of ebony, as the monks' ones were), and so mutter + continually to yourselves, "Peace, peace," when there is No peace; but + only captivity and death, for you, as well as for those you leave unsaved;—and + yours darker than theirs. + </p> + <p> + I cannot utter to you what I would in this matter; we all see too dimly, + as yet, what our great world-duties are, to allow any of us to try to + outline their enlarging shadows. But think over what I have said, and as + you return to your quiet homes to-night, reflect that their peace was not + won for you by your own hands; but by theirs who long ago jeoparded their + lives for you, their children; and remember that neither this inherited + peace, nor any other, can be kept, but through the same jeopardy. No peace + was ever won from Fate by subterfuge or agreement; no peace is ever in + store for any of us, but that which we shall win by victory over shame or + sin;—victory over the sin that oppresses, as well as over that which + corrupts. For many a year to come, the sword of every righteous nation + must be whetted to save or subdue; nor will it be by patience of others' + suffering, but by the offering of your own, that you ever will draw nearer + to the time when the great change shall pass upon the iron of the earth;—when + men shall beat their swords into ploughshares, and their spears into + pruning-hooks; neither shall they learn war any more. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0009" id="link2H_4_0009"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDICES. + </h2> + <h3> + APPENDIX I. + </h3> + <h3> + RIGHT AND WRONG. + </h3> + <p> + Readers who are using my <i>Elements of Drawing</i> may be surprised by my + saying here that Tintoret may lead them wrong; while in the <i>Elements</i> + he is one of the six men named as being "always right." + </p> + <p> + I bring the apparent inconsistency forward at the beginning of this + Appendix, because the illustration of it will be farther useful in showing + the real nature of the self-contradiction which is often alleged against + me by careless readers. + </p> + <p> + It is not only possible, but a frequent condition of human action, to <i>do</i> + right and <i>be</i> right—yet so as to mislead other people if they + rashly imitate the thing done. For there are many rights which are not + absolutely, but relatively right—right only for <i>that</i> person + to do under those circumstances,—not for <i>this</i> person to do + under other circumstances. + </p> + <p> + Thus it stands between Titian and Tintoret. Titian is always absolutely + Right. You may imitate him with entire security that you are doing the + best thing that can possibly be done for the purpose in hand. Tintoret is + always relatively Right—relatively to his own aims and peculiar + powers. But you must quite understand Tintoret before you can be sure what + his aim was, and why he was then right in doing what would not be right + always. If, however, you take the pains thus to understand him, he becomes + entirely instructive and exemplary, just as Titian is; and therefore I + have placed him among those are "always right," and you can only study him + rightly with that reverence for him. + </p> + <p> + Then the artists who are named as "admitting question of right and wrong," + are those who from some mischance of circumstance or short- coming in + their education, do not always do right, even with relation to their own + aims and powers. + </p> + <p> + Take for example the quality of imperfection in drawing form. There are + many pictures of Tintoret in which the trees are drawn with a few curved + flourishes of the brush instead of leaves. That is (absolutely) wrong. If + you copied the tree as a model, you would be going very wrong indeed. But + it is relatively, and for Tintoret's purposes, right. In the nature of the + superficial work you will find there must have been a cause for it. + Somebody perhaps wanted the picture in a hurry to fill a dark corner. + Tintoret good-naturedly did all he could—painted the figures + tolerably—had five minutes left only for the trees, when the servant + came. "Let him wait another five minutes." And this is the best foliage we + can do in the time. Entirely, admirably, unsurpassably right, under the + conditions. Titian would not have worked under them, but Tintoret was + kinder and humbler; yet he may lead you wrong if you don't understand him. + Or, perhaps, another day, somebody came in while Tintoret was at work, who + tormented Tintoret. An ignoble person! Titian would have been polite to + him, and gone on steadily with his trees. Tintoret cannot stand the + ignobleness; it is unendurably repulsive and discomfiting to him. "The + Black Plague take him—and the trees, too! Shall such a fellow see me + paint!" And the trees go all to pieces. This, in you, would be mere + ill-breeding and ill-temper. In Tintoret it was one of the necessary + conditions of his intense sensibility; had he been capable, then, of + keeping his temper, he could never have done his greatest works. Let the + trees go to pieces, by all means; it is quite right they should; he is + always right. + </p> + <p> + But in a background of Gainsborough you would find the trees unjustifiably + gone to pieces. The carelessness of form there is definitely purposed by + him;—adopted as an advisable thing; and therefore it is both + absolutely and relatively wrong;—it indicates his being imperfectly + educated as a painter, and not having brought out all his powers. It may + still happen that the man whose work thus partially erroneous is greater + far, than others who have fewer faults. Gainsborough's and Reynolds' + wrongs are more charming than almost anybody else's right. Still, they + occasionally <i>are</i> wrong—but the Venetians and Velasquez, + [Note: At least after his style was formed; early pictures, like the + Adoration of the Magi in our Gallery, are of little value.] never. + </p> + <p> + I ought, perhaps, to have added in that Manchester address (only one does + not like to say things that shock people) some words of warning against + painters likely to mislead the student. For indeed, though here and there + something may be gained by looking at inferior men, there is always more + to be gained by looking at the best; and there is not time, with all the + looking of human life, to exhaust even one great painter's instruction. + How then shall we dare to waste our sight and thoughts on inferior ones, + even if we could do so, which we rarely can, without danger of being led + astray? Nay, strictly speaking, what people call inferior painters are in + general no painters. Artists are divided by an impassable gulf into the + men who can paint, and who cannot. The men who can paint often fall short + of what they should have done;—are repressed, or defeated, or + otherwise rendered inferior one to another: still there is an everlasting + barrier between them and the men who cannot paint—who can only in + various popular ways pretend to paint. And if once you know the + difference, there is always some good to be got by looking at a real + painter—seldom anything but mischief to be got out of a false one; + but do not suppose real painters are common. I do not speak of living men; + but among those who labour no more, in this England of ours, since it + first had a school, we have had only five real painters;—Reynolds, + Gainsborough, Hogarth, Richard Wilson, and Turner. + </p> + <p> + The reader may, perhaps, think I have forgotten Wilkie. No. I once much + overrated him as an expressional draughtsman, not having then studied the + figure long enough to be able to detect superficial sentiment. But his + colour I have never praised; it is entirely false and valueless. And it + would tie unjust to English art if I did not here express my regret that + the admiration of Constable, already harmful enough in England, is + extending even into France. There was, perhaps, the making, in Constable, + of a second or third-rate painter, if any careful discipline had developed + in him the instincts which, though unparalleled for narrowness, were, as + far as they went, true. But as it is, he is nothing more than an + industrious and innocent amateur blundering his way to a superficial + expression of one or two popular aspects of common nature. + </p> + <p> + And my readers may depend upon it, that all blame which I express in this + sweeping way is trustworthy. I have often had to repent of over- praise of + inferior men; and continually to repent of insufficient praise of great + men; but of broad condemnation, never. For I do not speak it but after the + most searching examination of the matter, and under stern sense of need + for it: so that whenever the reader is entirely shocked by what I say, he + may be assured every word is true.[Note: He must, however, be careful to + distinguish blame— however strongly expressed, of some special fault + or error in a true painter,—from these general statements of + inferiority or worthlessness. Thus he will find me continually laughing at + Wilson's tree-painting; not because Wilson could not paint, but because he + had never looked at a tree.] It is just because it so much offends him, + that it was necessary: and knowing that it must offend him, I should not + have ventured to say it, without certainty of its truth. I say + "certainty," for it is just as possible to be certain whether the drawing + of a tree or a stone is true or false, as whether the drawing of a + triangle is; and what I mean primarily by saying that a picture is in all + respects worthless, is that it is in all respects False: which is not a + matter of opinion at all, but a matter of ascertainable fact, such as I + never assert till I have ascertained. And the thing so commonly said about + my writings, that they are rather persuasive than just; and that though my + "language" may be good, I am an unsafe guide in art criticism, is, like + many other popular estimates in such matters, not merely untrue, but + precisely the reverse of the truth; it is truth, like reflections in + water, distorted much by the shaking receptive surface, and in every + particular, upside down. For my "language," until within the last six or + seven years, was loose, obscure, and more or less feeble; and still, + though I have tried hard to mend it, the best I can do is inferior to much + contemporary work. No description that I have ever given of anything is + worth four lines of Tennyson; and in serious thought, my half-pages are + generally only worth about as much as a single sentence either of his, or + of Carlyle's. They are, I well trust, as true and necessary; but they are + neither so concentrated nor so well put. But I am an entirely safe guide + in art judgment: and that simply as the necessary result of my having + given the labour of life to the determination of facts, rather than to the + following of feelings or theories. Not, indeed, that my work is free from + mistakes; it admits many, and always must admit many, from its scattered + range; but, in the long run, it will be found to enter sternly and + searchingly into the nature of what it deals with, and the kind of mistake + it admits is never dangerous, consisting, usually, in pressing the truth + too far. It is quite easy, for instance, to take an accidental + irregularity in a piece of architecture, which less careful examination + would never have detected at all, for an intentional irregularity; quite + possible to misinterpret an obscure passage in a picture, which a less + earnest observer would never have tried to interpret. But mistakes of this + kind—honest, enthusiastic mistakes—are never harmful; because + they are always made in a true direction,—falls forward on the road, + not into the ditch beside it; and they are sure to be corrected by the + next comer. But the blunt and dead mistakes made by too many other writers + on art—the mistakes of sheer inattention, and want of sympathy—are + mortal. The entire purpose of a great thinker may be difficult to fathom, + and we may be over and over again more or less mistaken in guessing at his + meaning; but the real, profound, nay, quite bottomless, and unredeemable + mistake, is the fool's thought—that he had no meaning. + </p> + <p> + I do not refer, in saying this, to any of my statements respecting + subjects which it has been my main work to study: as far as I am aware, I + have never yet misinterpreted any picture of Turner's, though often + remaining blind to the half of what he had intended: neither have I as yet + found anything to correct in my statements respecting Venetian + architecture; [Note: The subtle portions of the Byzantine Palaces, given + in precise measurements in the second volume of the "Stones of Venice," + were alleged by architects to be accidental irregularities. They will be + found, by every one who will take the pains to examine them, most + assuredly and indisputably intentional,—and not only so, but one of + the principal subjects of the designer's care.] but in <i>casual + references</i> to what has been quickly seen, it is impossible to guard + wholly against error, without losing much valuable observation, true in + ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, and harmless even when erroneous. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0010" id="link2H_4_0010"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX II. + </h2> + <h3> + REYNOLDS' DISAPPOINTMENT. + </h3> + <p> + It is very fortunate that in the fragment of Mason's MSS., published + lately by Mr. Cotton in his "Sir Joshua Reynolds' Notes," [Note: Smith, + Soho Square, 1859.] record is preserved of Sir Joshua's feelings + respecting the paintings in the window of New College, which might + otherwise have been supposed to give his full sanction to this mode of + painting on glass. Nothing can possibly be more curious, to my mind, than + the great painter's expectations; or his having at all entertained the + idea that the qualities of colour which are peculiar to opaque bodies + could be obtained in a transparent medium; but so it is: and with the + simplicity and humbleness of an entirely great man he hopes that Mr. + Jervas on glass is to excel Sir Joshua on canvas. Happily, Mason tells us + the result. + </p> + <p> + "With the copy Jervas made of this picture he was grievously disappointed. + 'I had frequently,' he said to me, 'pleased myself by reflecting, after I + had produced what I thought a brilliant effect of light and shadow on my + canvas, how greatly that effect would be heightened by the transparency + which the painting on glass would be sure to produce. It turned out quite + the reverse.'" + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0011" id="link2H_4_0011"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX III. + </h2> + <h3> + CLASSICAL ARCHITECTURE. + </h3> + <p> + This passage in the lecture was illustrated by an enlargement of the + woodcut, Fig. 1; but I did not choose to disfigure the middle of this book + with it. It is copied from the 49th plate of the third edition of the <i>Encyclopędia + Britannica</i> (Edinburgh, 1797), and represents an English farmhouse + arranged on classical principles. If the reader cares to consult the work + itself, he will find in the same plate another composition of similar + propriety, and dignified by the addition of a pediment, beneath the shadow + of which "a private gentleman who has a small family may find + conveniency." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0012" id="link2H_4_0012"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX IV. + </h2> + <h3> + SUBTLETY OF HAND. + </h3> + <p> + I had intended in one or other of these lectures to have spoken at some + length of the quality of refinement in Colour, but found the subject would + lead me too far. A few words are, however, necessary in order to explain + some expressions in the text. + </p> + <p> + "Refinement in colour" is indeed a tautological expression, for colour, in + the true sense of the word, does not exist until it <i>is</i> refined. + Dirt exists,—stains exist,—and pigments exist, easily enough + in all places; and are laid on easily enough by all hands; but colour + exists only where there is tenderness, and can be laid on only by a hand + which has strong life in it. The law concerning colour is very strange, + very noble, in some sense almost awful. In every given touch laid on + canvas, if one grain of the colour is inoperative, and does not take its + full part in producing the hue, the hue will be imperfect. The grain of + colour which does not work is dead. It infects all about it with its + death. It must be got quit of, or the touch is spoiled. We acknowledge + this instinctively in our use of the phrases "dead colour," "killed + colour," "foul colour." Those words are, in some sort, literally true. If + more colour is put on than is necessary, a heavy touch when a light one + would have been enough, the quantity of colour that was not wanted, and is + overlaid by the rest, is as dead, and it pollutes the rest. There will be + no good in the touch. + </p> + <p> + The art of painting, properly so called, consists in laying on the least + possible colour that will produce the required result, and this + measurement, in all the ultimate, that is to say, the principal, + operations of colouring, is so delicate that not one human hand in a + million has the required lightness. The final touch of any painter + properly so named, of Correggio—Titian—Turner—or + Reynolds—would be always quite invisible to any one watching the + progress of the work, the films of hue being laid thinner than the depths + of the grooves in mother-of-pearl. The work may be swift, apparently + careless, nay, to the painter himself almost unconscious. Great painters + are so organized that they do their best work without effort: but analyze + the touches afterwards, and you will find the structure and depth of the + colour laid mathematically demonstrable to be of literally infinite + fineness, the last touches passing away at their edges by untraceable + gradation. The very essence of a master's work may thus be removed by a + picture- cleaner in ten minutes. + </p> + <p> + Observe, however, this thinness exists only in portions of the ultimate + touches, for which the preparation may often have been made with solid + colours, commonly, and literally, called "dead colouring," but even that + is always subtle if a master lays it—subtle at least in drawing, if + simple in hue; and farther, observe that the refinement of work consists + not in laying absolutely <i>little</i> colour, but in always laying + precisely the right quantity. To lay on little needs indeed the rare + lightness of hand; but to lay much,—yet not one atom <i>too</i> + much, and obtain subtlety, not by withholding strength, but by precision + of pause,—that is the master's final sign-manual—power, + knowledge, and tenderness all united. A great deal of colour may often be + wanted; perhaps quite a mass of it, such as shall project from the canvas; + but the real painter lays this mass of its required thickness and shape + with as much precision as if it were a bud of a flower which he had to + touch into blossom; one of Turner's loaded fragments of white cloud is + modelled and gradated in an instant, as if it alone were the subject of + the picture, when the same quantity of colour, under another hand, would + be a lifeless lump. + </p> + <p> + The following extract from a letter in the <i>Literary Gazette</i> of 13th + November, 1858, which I was obliged to write to defend a questioned + expression respecting Turner's subtlety of hand from a charge of + hyperbole, contains some interesting and conclusive evidence on the point, + though it refers to pencil and chalk drawing only:— + </p> + <p> + "I must ask you to allow me yet leave to reply to the objections you make + to two statements in my catalogue, as those objections would otherwise + diminish its usefulness. I have asserted that, in a given drawing (named + as one of the chief in the series), Turner's pencil did not move over the + thousandth of an inch without meaning; and you charge this expression with + extravagant hyperbole. On the contrary, it is much within the truth, being + merely a mathematically accurate description of fairly good execution in + either drawing or engraving. It is only necessary to measure a piece of + any ordinary good work to ascertain this. Take, for instance, Finden's + engraving at the 180th page of Rogers' poems; in which the face of the + figure, from the chin to the top of the brow, occupies just a quarter of + an inch, and the space between the upper lip and chin as nearly as + possible one-seventeenth of an inch. The whole mouth occupies one-third of + this space, say one- fiftieth of an inch, and within that space both the + lips and the much more difficult inner corner of the mouth are perfectly + drawn and rounded, with quite successful and sufficiently subtle + expression. Any artist will assure you that in order to draw a mouth as + well as this, there must be more than twenty gradations of shade in the + touches; that is to say, in this case, gradations changing, with meaning, + within less than the thousandth of an inch. + </p> + <p> + "But this is mere child's play compared to the refinement of a first- rate + mechanical work—much more of brush or pencil drawing by a master's + hand. In order at once to furnish you with authoritative evidence on this + point, I wrote to Mr. Kingsley, tutor of Sidney-Sussex College, a friend + to whom I always have recourse when I want to be precisely right in any + matter; for his great knowledge both of mathematics and of natural science + is joined, not only with singular powers of delicate experimental + manipulation, but with a keen sensitiveness to beauty in art. His answer, + in its final statement respecting Turner's work, is amazing even to me, + and will, I should think, be more so to your readers. Observe the + successions of measured and tested refinement: here is No. 1:— + </p> + <p> + "'The finest mechanical work that I know, which is not optical, is that + done by Nobert in the way of ruling lines. I have a series ruled by him on + glass, giving actual scales from .000024 and .000016 of an inch, perfectly + correct to these places of decimals, and he has executed others as fine as + .000012, though I do not know how far he could repeat these last with + accuracy.' + </p> + <p> + "This is No. 1 of precision. Mr. Kingsley proceeds to No. 2:— + </p> + <p> + "'But this is rude work compared to the accuracy necessary for the + construction of the object-glass of a microscope such as Rosse turns out.' + </p> + <p> + "I am sorry to omit the explanation which follows of the ten lenses + composing such a glass, 'each of which must be exact in radius and in + surface, and all have their axes coincident:' but it would not be + intelligible without the figure by which it is illustrated; so I pass to + Mr. Kingsley's No. 3:— + </p> + <p> + "'I am tolerably familiar,' he proceeds, 'with the actual grinding and + polishing of lenses and specula, and have produced by my own hand some by + no means bad optical work, and I have copied no small amount of Turner's + work, and <i>I still look with awe at the combined delicacy and precision + of his hand</i>; IT BEATS OPTICAL WORK OUT OF SIGHT. In optical work, as + in refined drawing, the hand goes beyond the eye, and one has to depend + upon the feel; and when one has once learned what a delicate affair touch + is, one gets a horror of all coarse work, and is ready to forgive any + amount of feebleness, sooner than that boldness which is akin to + impudence. In optics the distinction is easily seen when the work is put + to trial; but here too, as in drawing, it requires an educated eye to tell + the difference when the work is only moderately bad; but with "bold" work, + nothing can be seen but distortion and fog: and I heartily wish the same + result would follow the same kind of handling in drawing; but here, the + boldness cheats the unlearned by looking like the precision of the true + man. It is very strange how much better our ears are than our eyes in this + country: if an ignorant man were to be "bold" with a violin, he would not + get many admirers, though his boldness was far below that of ninety-nine + out of a hundred drawings one sees.' + </p> + <p> + "The words which I have put in italics in the above extract are those + which were surprising to me. I knew that Turner's was as refined as any + optical work, but had no idea of its going beyond it. Mr. Kingsley's word + 'awe' occurring just before, is, however, as I have often felt, precisely + the right one. When once we begin at all to understand the handling of any + truly great executor, such as that of any of the three great Venetians, of + Correggio, or Turner, the awe of it is something greater than can be felt + from the most stupendous natural scenery. For the creation of such a + system as a high human intelligence, endowed with its ineffably perfect + instruments of eye and hand, is a far more appalling manifestation of + Infinite Power, than the making either of seas or mountains. + </p> + <p> + "After this testimony to the completion of Turner's work, I need not at + length defend myself from the charge of hyperbole in the statement that, + 'as far as I know, the galleries of Europe may be challenged to produce + one sketch [footnote: A sketch, observe,—not a finished drawing. + Sketches are only proper subjects of comparison with each other when they + contain about the same quantity of work: the test of their merit is the + quantity of truth told with a given number of touches. The assertion in + the Catalogue which this letter was written to defend, was made respecting + the sketch of Rome, No. 101.] that shall equal the chalk study No. 45, or + the feeblest of the memoranda in the 71st and following frames;' which + memoranda, however, it should have been observed, are stated at the 44th + page to be in some respects 'the grandest work in grey that he did in his + life.' For I believe that, as manipulators, none but the four men whom I + have just named (the three Venetians and Correggio) were equal to Turner; + and, as far as I know, none of those four ever put their full strength + into sketches. But whether they did or not, my statement in the catalogue + is limited by my own knowledge: and, as far as I can trust that knowledge, + it is not an enthusiastic statement, but an entirely calm and considered + one. It may be a mistake but it is not a hyperbole." + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0013" id="link2H_4_0013"> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + APPENDIX V. + </h2> + <p> + I can only give, to illustrate this balcony, fac-similes of rough + memoranda made on a single leaf of my note-book, with a tired hand; but it + may be useful to young students to see them, in order that they may know + the difference between notes made to get at the gist and heart of a thing, + and notes made merely to look neat. Only it must be observed that the best + characters of free drawing are always lost even in the most careful + facsimile; and I should not show even these slight notes in woodcut + imitation, unless the reader had it in his power, by a glance at the 21st + or 35th plates in <i>Modern Painters</i> (and yet better, by trying to + copy a piece of either of them), to ascertain how far I can draw or not. I + refer to these plates, because, though I distinctly stated in the preface + that they, together with the 12th, 20th, 34th, and 37th, were executed on + the steel by my own hand, (the use of the dry point in the foregrounds of + the 12th and 21st plates being moreover wholly different from the common + processes of etching) I find it constantly assumed that they were engraved + for me—as if direct lying in such matters were a thing of quite + common usage. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 2 is the centre-piece of the balcony, but a leaf-spray is omitted on + the right-hand side, having been too much buried among the real leaves to + be drawn. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 3 shows the intended general effect of its masses, the five-leaved + and six-leaved flowers being clearly distinguishable at any distance. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 4 is its profile, rather carefully drawn at the top, to show the + tulip and turkscap lily leaves. Underneath there is a plate of iron beaten + into broad thin leaves, which gives the centre of the balcony a gradual + sweep outwards, like the side of a ship of war. The central profile is of + the greatest importance in ironwork, as the flow of it affects the curves + of the whole design, not merely in surface, as in marble carving, but in + their intersections, when the side is seen through the front. The lighter + leaves, <i>b b</i>, are real bindweed. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 5 shows two of the teeth of the border, illustrating their + irregularity of form, which takes place quite to the extent indicated. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 6 is the border at the side of the balcony, showing the most + interesting circumstance in the treatment of the whole, namely, the + enlargement and retraction of the teeth of the cornice, as it approaches + the wall. This treatment of the whole cornice as a kind of wreath round + the balcony, having its leaves flung loose at the back, and set close at + the front, as a girl would throw a wreath of leaves round her hair, is + precisely the most finished indication of a good workman's mind to be + found in the whole thing. + </p> + <p> + Fig. 7 shows the outline of the retracted leaves accurately. It was noted + in the text that the whole of this ironwork had been coloured. The + difficulty of colouring ironwork rightly, and the necessity of doing it in + some way or other, have been the principal reasons for my never having + entered heartily into this subject; for all the ironwork I have ever seen + look beautiful was rusty, and rusty iron will not answer modern purposes. + Nevertheless it may be painted, but it needs some one to do it who knows + what painting means, and few of us do—certainly none, as yet, of our + restorers of decoration or writers on colour. + </p> + <p> + It is a marvellous thing to me that book after book should appear on this + last subject, without apparently the slightest consciousness on the part + of the writers that the first necessity of beauty in colour is gradation, + as the first necessity of beauty in line is curvature,—or that the + second necessity in colour is mystery or subtlety, as the second necessity + in line is softness. Colour ungradated is wholly valueless; colour + unmysterious is wholly barbarous. Unless it looses itself and melts away + towards other colours, as a true line loses itself and melts away towards + other lines, colour has no proper existence, in the noble sense of the + word. What a cube, or tetrahedron, is to organic form, ungradated and + unconfused colour is to organic colour; and a person who attempts to + arrange colour harmonies without gradation of tint is in precisely the + same category, as an artist who should try to compose a beautiful picture + out of an accumulation of cubes and parallelepipeds. + </p> + <p> + The value of hue in all illuminations on painted glass of fine periods + depends primarily on the expedients used to make the colours palpitate and + fluctuate; <i>inequality</i> of brilliancy being the <i>condition</i> of + brilliancy, just as inequality of accent is the condition of power and + loveliness in sound. The skill with which the thirteenth century + illuminators in books, and the Indians in shawls and carpets, use the + minutest atoms of colour to gradate other colours, and confuse the eye, is + the first secret in their gift of splendour: associated, however, with so + many other artifices which are quite instinctive and unteachable, that it + is of little use to dwell upon them. Delicacy of organization in the + designer given, you will soon have all, and without it, nothing. However, + not to close my book with desponding words, let me set down, as many of us + like such things, five Laws to which there is no exception whatever, and + which, if they can enable no one to produce good colour, are at least, as + far as they reach, accurately condemnatory of bad colour. + </p> + <p> + 1. ALL GOOD COLOUR IS GRADATED. A blush rose (or, better still, a blush + itself), is the type of rightness in arrangement of pure hue. + </p> + <p> + 2. ALL HARMONIES OF COLOUR DEPEND FOR THEIR VITALITY ON THE ACTION AND + HELPFUL OPERATION OF EVERY PARTICLE OF COLOUR THEY CONTAIN. + </p> + <p> + 3. THE FINAL PARTICLES OF COLOUR NECESSARY TO THE COMPLETENESS OF A COLOUR + HARMONY ARE ALWAYS INFINITELY SMALL; either laid by immeasurably subtle + touches of the pencil, or produced by portions of the colouring substance, + however distributed, which are so absolutely small as to become at the + intended distance infinitely so to the eye. + </p> + <p> + 4. NO COLOUR HARMONY IS OF HIGH ORDER UNLESS IT INVOLVES INDESCRIBABLE + TINTS. It is the best possible sign of a colour when nobody who sees it + knows what to call it, or how to give an idea of it to any one else. Even + among simple hues the most valuable are those which cannot be defined; the + most precious purples will look brown beside pure purple, and purple + beside pure brown; and the most precious greens will be called blue if + seen beside pure green, and green if seen beside pure blue. + </p> + <p> + 5. THE FINER THE EYE FOR COLOUR, THE LESS IT WILL REQUIRE TO GRATIFY IT + INTENSELY. But that little must be supremely good and pure, as the finest + notes of a great singer, which are so near to silence. And a great + colourist will make even the absence of colour lovely, as the fading of + the perfect voice makes silence sacred. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE TWO PATHS *** + +This file should be named 7291-h.htm or 7291-h.zip + +Etext produced by Michelle Shephard, Eric Eldred, Charles Franks +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team + +HTML file produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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